


A Good Resistance

by Sally_Port



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-03 20:53:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 301,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sally_Port/pseuds/Sally_Port
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John Franklin Fry had refused to wait for proof and headed straight back to President Carver after his meeting with Miles, leaving Miles with having to come up with a new plan to try to defeat the Patriots?  This story explore the angles of Miles, Charlie, Rachel, Gene and Bass having to deal with a domestic relationship together.</p><p>Dedicated to my mother who never got to read the end. . .but who knew what it was going to be because she let me talk to her about it for HOURS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for entertainment purposes only. I am receiving no profit from this work.
> 
> I typed the first ten chapters into the website from a hand-written manuscript so there will probably be a lot of small typos to begin with. I will try to go back and fix them soon. Also, since I am getting addicted to the instant gratification of feedback as soon as I post, there are time I skimp on editing after I finish writing a chapter. Those errors will get fixed eventually as well.
> 
> Check out the amazing cover art, courtesy of Redbanker, at http://sally-port.livejournal.com/669.html

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Every good occupation deserves a resistance." -- Miles Matheson

Miles wasn't particularly pleased about taking Monroe back to his room but there was really nowhere else to put him and Charlie could tell her Uncle was pretty much out of ideas. Monroe had whined about Miles wasting an opportunity to start a war between Texas and the Patriots but Miles had snapped that there wasn't much he could have done since Fry had left town immediately after their meeting and he would be lucky if the Secretary of the Interior of Texas didn't come back to execute him on the spot.

The two men had spent the day filling each other in on what had happened since they'd last parted outside the Tower. Charlie hadn't realized Monroe had been captured by the Militia and that Miles had let him go -- which had explained why Tom Neville had been more pissed that usual when he'd found them in the Tower. She also got to hear Miles' summary of Titus Andover and the war clan that had been preying on Willoughy to soften them up for the Patriot's arrival. It was smaller scale than what they'd done bombing Philadelphia and Atlanta but the same concept of create a problem, clean it up was clearly evident in their strategy.

Both men had tensed when they'd heard footsteps in the hall and Rachel walked in without even knocking. Her face was already hard as she grabbed Miles' sword from the table. Monroe backed hastily away and Miles jumped between them. 

"Get out of my way, Miles." Her mother didn't seem to have even noticed her standing in the corner. Charlie caught sight of Aaron in the doorway but he seemed to be as frozen as she was.

"Rachel, stop it. Okay, stop it." Miles snapped.

"What's he doing here?" Rachel snarled and Charlie forced herself to step forward.

"Because he's here to help us. And because I brought him here."

"Now why would you do that?" Rachel said, her voice filled with the angry condescension that drove Charlie crazy because it hurt so bad that her own mother considered her pointless. "Are you stupid?"

"For coming back here, yeah, I think I am," Charlie shot back and was at least rewarded by Rachel flinching.

Miles reached out and pulled the sword out of Rachel's hand. "You two can kill each other later. Right now we have more important things to worry about."

Rachel's look said she clearly didn't believe him but Charlie heard Aaron step forward, shutting the door behind him. His smile at least was genuine and Charlie turned to hug him. She didn't miss the look Rachel shot her but she ignored it as Aaron squeezed her tight. "It is so good to see you. In person at least." She didn't understand what he meant but that wasn't uncommon so she just wrapped her arms around him and hugged him back. Often he made as little sense to her as Rachel did but he also didn't make her feel like she was a child who'd just broken something important.

She stepped out of his embrace and turned to Rachel. "How have you been?"

"I've been better, Charlie." 

She heard the anger in her mother's voice and both Miles and Aaron said, "Rachel!" but her mother didn't even look at them.

"Why would you bring him here?"

"When I first saw him again, I wanted to kill him too."

"But you didn't."

Charlie felt a flash of anger. She'd tried. If Adam hadn't hit Monroe over the head, he'd have been dead from her arrow. She'd tried everything she could think of to convince the bounty hunter to shoot him when she'd first come-to, tied up in the pool. Then, armed only with a pipe, she'd tried to smash Monroe's skull, clear up to the time he'd knocked the wind out of her. The only reason she'd not tried again when he'd found her walking was he had warned her the Patriots wanted her mother and she figured she'd owed him for that; even before she realized she'd owed him her life for that night in the bar.

"He saved my life."

Rachel looked unconvinced. "So he's changed? He's a saint?"

"Rachel, leave her alone." This time it was Monroe; the first time he'd spoken since Rachel had walked in the door. Her mother whirled back to him, murder in her face but no weapon in her hand.

"You don't get to tell me what to do. You've poisoned my own daughter with your lies and --"

"What. Because she's willing to let me try to help save you?" Monroe's tone was mocking. "Don't be a hypocrite, Rachel."

"Bass," Miles snapped but Monroe grinned; an angry, mocking expression.

"It's true. Who do you think gave me a weapon in the Tower? I certainly didn't find it on my own. She did it to save Charlie's life. And now Charlie's doing it to save Rachel."

Charlie took a deep breath, remembering her blazing rage when Rachel had yelled "what are you doing here?" and she had screamed back "what am I doing here? What are you doing with him?" A sudden flash of sympathy towards Rachel's reaction made her look at her mother and by the expression on Rachel's face, Monroe's words might just have gotten through to her as well.

"He really did save my life." They probably would have killed her for resisting, after they'd gang-raped her, but that was more detail, Charlie realized, than she wanted to supply right now. She'd risked death plenty of time. That was familiar. But it was usually something quick. Like an explosion, gunshot or flashing blade. She'd never felt drugs stealing her ability to move and react; like she was bleeding to death but without the promise of actual death to spare her whatever plans her captors had for her. "And he was willing to help me save yours. Because we didn't know they'd already found you."

Rachel looked puzzled and Miles pulled out the bounty Charlie had given him earlier. "What is this? Why?" Rachel asked, her tone puzzled. "This makes no sense."

"No, it doesn't," Miles agreed. "Which is exactly why, when Charlie showed me who she'd brought back with her, I realized he was right. I need his help. We all need his help."

The look on Rachel's face said she was exactly convinced but Aaron shrugged. "Monroe, huh. That's quite a twist."

Miles glare said he didn't quite appreciate Aaron's attempt at humor. But the stiffness in Rachel's face and shoulders was softening and she shook her head, looking at Monroe. "You promised me once you wouldn't let anything happen to her. So, knowing about this, why would you let her come back?"

"Because trying to stop her would be a little bit like trying to stop you." Monroe's words were humorous but his voice wasn't and Charlie heard Miles sigh.

"Remember how I said every good occupation deserves a resistance? Well. I think this might just be it."

 

"So," Aaron asked, glancing around at the one room studio Charlie guessed Miles had moved into some time after she'd left Willoughby, "Cozy little place for two. I assume Monroe will be staying here with you."

"He's sure as hell not coming to live at my house," Rachel snapped.

Monroe looked around. "Not too bad. Get a cot in here. Um, is there indoor plumbing?" It had taken a few years after the blackout but some of the older plumbing had been able to be re-adapted to gravity and -- while flush toilets weren't common -- some places had them.

"Nope. Outhouse is downstairs, out the back door."

"Well, it's a step up from living outside," he glanced at Aaron. "Like you said. Cozy."

"Won't people notice?" Aaron asked. "Stu is such a private person. Won't they start asking questions when he all the sudden takes a room-mate?"

"It may ruin my reputation," Miles commented. "But people have assumed Bass and I have been a couple before."

"Which wouldn't be a bad thing," Aaron said. "Stu Redman on his own would probably be able to pull it off with no problem. But Stu Redman just happens to live in the same town with Rachel Matheson. And most people around here know that her brother-in-law is Miles Matheson. And while no one is asking questions, do you really think you've fooled anyone?"

"What aren't you telling me?" Rachel asked.

"I hear things. Speculation. After what happened with the Andovers, most people have guessed who you are. Most of them seem to think the same thing -- that you're trying to escape your past. But if he shows up and starts living with you."

"No sweat," Monroe commented. "I've been calling myself Jimmy King."

Charlie snorted. "Yeah, so Adam the Bounty Hunter, who'd probably still looking for you because of that six ounces of diamonds, can hear about Jimmy King living in the same town as Rachel Matheson -- another six ounces of diamonds."

Monroe nodded. "Okay, good point. Maybe time to change alias'."

"And probably best not live in the same room as Miles Matheson." Aaron held his hands out in placation at Rachel's glare. "Look, I don't really like it either. But people will put it together."

"I don't see how," Monroe said. "Its not like there are many people who know what I look like. I always avoided photographs, even after people got old cameras working again."

"Your tattoo?" Miles asked and Monroe held up his arm to flash a ruin of burn scar in an rough circle on his upper left forearm. Even Rachel winced. "What the hell," Miles exclaimed.

"After I found out about Philadelphia. About how everyone there burned to death, their flesh melting off them. Because of me. Someone killing them to try to get me." 

Rachel looked annoyed. "If you really cared, you should have thought of that before."

"Enough," Miles snapped. "But Aaron's right. We have to have a good reason for him being here that doesn't tie back to me."

Charlie cleared her throat. "It makes me a little sick to say it. But he and I arrived here at the same thing. The logical explanation is that he came with me." 

All four of them turned to Charlie, frowning.

"Look, I don't like it either. But people are a lot less likely to associate me with Monroe."

"Which puts us," Rachel said slowly, "back at the same predicament of where he stays."

Monroe sighed. "Face it, Rachel, as much as you'll hate having me in your attic, you'll be more comfortable keeping an eye on me."

Aaron shrugged, clearly missing the jest. "Nah, there are plenty of rooms on the second floor. They'll probably put you in the same room I stayed in, back when I lived there. Or Miles' old room."

Rachel sighed. "If he's staying, then Miles comes back too."

"Great," Miles sighed. "Gene is pissed enough at having me hanging around. He's not going to like having Sebastian Monroe staying there too."

"Yeah, I think a good alias is in order," Monroe muttered. "James Kingston?"

"What," Charlie asked "is it with you and that name?"

"If you don't want to stand there when someone's calling your name," Miles sighed, "best make it one you remember. Jimmy King was always the name Bass used when we were making up some game as a kid. Give me some time to pack my clothes. What explanation can we have for me moving back?"

Charlie shrugged. "Mom's not comfortable with me bringing home a guy she doesn't know and you've missed me and want to spend time with me."

 

They let Rachel go in first and Charlie heard Gene yell, "Rachel, where the hell have you been? I've been worried sick. . . ." He trailed off as Charlie followed her mother inside.

"Hi, Grandpa."

"Charlie." There was no mistaking the relief in Gene's voice and he folder her into a tight hug. "When did you get back?"

"Today. I hope you don't mind I brought a friend with me. And Miles is going to stay with us for a bit too."

Gene shrugged, not looking very pleased but he nodded at Miles as he walked in behind Charlie, Monroe trailing behind him.

"Grandpa, this is my friend, James. He saved my life and. . . ." She trailed off as Gene turned white, backing up.

"What the hell is this?"

"Oh shit," Miles muttered and Gene turned to face him.

"How dare you bring him here? After what he did to my grandson." Gene turned to Rachel. "And you let him?"

Charlie looked between her relatives. "Wait a minute. Grandpa knows him?"

Monroe shrugged. "So much for a good alias. I was at Rachel and Ben's wedding. Miles dragged me along so he'd have someone to get drunk with. I didn't think he'd remember me."

"I want him out. Now."

It would be the simple thing, Charlie realized. Monroe would walk away to try to protect them and though he wouldn't go far, she'd be free of him. He and Miles could plot together and she could go back to trying to forget he even existed. But she looked at Rachel and wondered how long the Patriots would leave them alone. Monroe hadn't been lying when he said he was Miles' best hope of defeating the Patriots.

"Then I go too." 

Gene jerked like he'd been shot. "Charlie?"

"I meant it when I said he saved my life. Miles, show him the poster."

Miles fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the piece of thick parchment, folded and re-folded until it had permanent creases in it. He handed it over and Gene's furious glare slumped into confusion and shock. "What is this? Why do they want Rachel?" He tensed, turning to his daughter. "But they know you're here. They. . . ." He rubbed his face. "I don't understand."

"None of us do, Grandpa. That's why he's here." She gestured at Monroe and Gene blinked, face lined and pale.

"I. . ." Gene took a deep breath, waving his hand. "If you hurt either of them." His voice trembled.

Monroe nodded, tone gentle. "I won't. I promise I won't. I have a lot I need to make up for. That's why I'm here."

Something Charlie didn't recognize seemed to flash across Gene's face but it was gone a moment later. It was almost like Gene understood but Charlie couldn't think of anything her grandfather had ever done that he would need to atone to anyone. "Fine." Gene waved his hand at the stairs. "Put him in Aaron's old room."

"Come on," Miles said to Monroe. "Lets go get us settled." They headed upstairs and Gene's eyes followed them. 

He turned back to Rachel. "I hope you're right about this."

Rachel looked at Charlie, her face unreadable. "I hope so too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on this idea ever since Patriot Games aired but what I have so far is hand-written in a notebook and I just wrote this scene now to tie it in with One Riot One Ranger. I decided having them looking for proof and killing the Patriots would have been too big a tip-off to the Patriots that something was wrong if I wanted to have them having to deal with a domestic situation between Miles, Rachel, Bass and Charlie building up to the start of an actual war with the Patriots. Not sure what I'm going to do about Horn yet. I think I'll have to bring him in eventually but I'm not sure when. Now to start the fun part of typing 80+ hand written (double sided) sheets and cleaning up a first draft. Expect a lot of humor (Monroe at a social function lecturing on the necessity of right to bear arms for a stable nation), a Charlie/Bass cover relationship that goes further than either of them planned and a lot of fish getting filleted.
> 
> Also, while I tried to use as much dialog from One Riot One Ranger as I can, I am doing it from memory and - when I am able to re-watch the episode - I'll put them in order/correct what the characters actually said as much as possible. I did like the chance to point out what a hypocrite Rachel was in getting mad at Charlie for doing pretty much exactly what Rachel did in the Tower and I thought that would be a good place for having Charlie and Rachel to start to come back together. . . .because for practically the first time in a long time they were able to understand how the other one felt.
> 
> This used to be Chapter 1 and 2. . .was recently consolidated into one chapter with the addition of a brand new Chapter 2.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie woke in the middle of the night, every nerve in her body taut with awareness something was wrong. She threw her bare feet over the side of the bed, grabbing her crossbow off the chair near her dresser. Gene had loaned her an old pair of sweat pants to sleep in but she didn’t bother with shoes as she padded silently into the hall.

They’d put Monroe in the room next to hers – the one Aaron had stayed in when they’d first come to Willoughby – but the door was open and a quick glance inside revealed it was empty. She felt a rush of anger at the dented pillow and discarded blankets and for a sick moment she wondered why he’d bothered bringing her if he wasn’t planning on staying any longer than a few hours. But she felt all the blood rush from her head the next moment and she turned, racing down the hall, praying she wasn’t too late.

Miles’ room was across from Rachel’s and she threw the door open, crossbow raised. Miles was facing away from her, the sheet thrown back from his bare shoulders and she got two steps inside the door when he bolted upright in bed, leveling a pistol at her that he’d clearly had underneath his pillow.

The terror racing through her started to fade as she realized he was alive and that wherever Monroe had gotten himself to, he evidently hadn’t tricked her into bringing him to Willoughby to murder her uncle.

Miles’ arm holding the gun dropped to his side and he glared at her. “Charlie, what the hell? I could have shot you by accident.”

She shrugged, knowing he was right. “Monroe’s gone.”

Miles stood, throwing off the blankets that covered him. He was wearing a pair of sweats similar to her own – likely also borrowed from her grandfather – and he grabbed his sword belt off his bedpost. “Son of a bitch,” he grumbled, his voice low and indistinct in the darkness as he leaned over to put on his boots. “When did this happen? Did you see him leave?”

“No. But I woke up and knew something was wrong. When I came out to check, his door was open.” She followed Miles into the hallway. She decided not to mention she’s thought for a moment Monroe had decided – of the two of them – he actually could pull the trigger.

They heard the back door close softly and Miles froze, his blade coming up across his chest but Charlie recognized the sound of Monroe’s tread on the stairs and she realized Miles had been holding his breath when she heard him exhale.

Monroe’s footsteps faltered but then he took the stairs two-at-a time and glared at them both in the moonlight as he stepped into the hallway. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“Charlie woke up. You were gone.” She heard the faint tones of accusation in Miles voice.

“I didn’t know I needed to wake Charlie when I needed to pee,” Monroe commented, his voice acid-polite. After a moment his shoulders slumped. “Oh, what the hell? Fine, Miles. You want me to get Rachel up too?” She heard the hurt in his voice. “What, do you think after all those weeks I spent trying to get here, I’m going to cut on the first night?”

“I’m sorry,” she snapped, feeling guilty and hating him for it. “But something felt wrong.”

Monroe sneered at them both but Miles cut them off. “Did you hear anything?”

“I. . .I don’t know.” The feeling was still there, though more indistinct and she tried to brush it aside but Miles’ hand caught her wrist.

“Come on, Charlie. Think. You’ve got good instincts. Is it still there?”

Monroe, she realized, had stepped closer to them, his face totally focused on Miles. For two men who had been so far apart moments ago, there was a resonance between them. When she’d seen them at the bridge, and even when Miles had protected Monroe from Rachel, she’d figured he’d done it because he needed Monroe. The way they seemed to be communicating with just their eyes almost took her breath away.

Monroe turned to her, his gaze intent on her face as if asking the same question Miles had asked out loud and she nearly recoiled away from him. He didn’t need to use words, she realized and wondered if this was what Miles experienced or if it was even stronger.

She took a deep breath, forcing away her hatred and the pain of Ben and Danny’s deaths, hoping she’d be able to tell them that it was nothing more than the distrust of having Monroe under the same roof as her, but she realized it was more than that. She nodded slightly, her chin just barely dipping and Monroe’s face split into something that wasn’t a grin. “Alright then.” She hadn’t noticed he was wearing both his swords until he drew them.”

Miles glared at him. “Put those things away. At least until we figure out what’s going on.”

Monroe sneered at him and didn’t re-sheath the swords but he at least lowered them. “So what are –” He broke off, shoulder slumping as he muttered, “Oh, shit.”

Charlie turned to stare at him in question but a few moments later the door to Rachel’s room opened and her mother came out, shrugging a robe over her t-shirt and shorts.

“What’s are you doing?” Rachel demanded, her voice harsh and loud into what Charlie realized had been whispers.

“Charlie thinks something’s wrong,” Miles said, stepping forward to be between Rachel and both herself and Monroe.”

“Yes, he’s sleeping under our roof,” Rachel snapped.

“Enough,” Miles barked. “Rachel, you’re the one who figured out what these guys were Patriots capable of before the rest of us did. Even before we knew they existed. And Bass is our best shot at trying to stop them. What’s happening here is bigger than how we feel about each other. But if he walks, we lose.” Her Uncle’s jaw clenched, “And if he goes, I go.”

She saw the shock evident in her mother’s face and forced herself to step forward. “And so do I.”

“What are you thinking?” Rachel shouted. “How can you forget what he did to your brother?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Monroe,” Charlie said, fighting to keep her voice even. “But if Miles leaves, I go with him.”

Rachel rounded on Miles. “And what about your brother? What about what he did to Ben?”

“You want to talk holier-than-thou?” Monroe’s voice was silky-smooth. “You get so wrapped up on your own fantasies. It’s like you use me to forget what you’ve done to the world. Oh, wait, you caused the whole damn Blackout. You had to watch your son died, and I’m sorry about that. But what about the day my wife bled to death in my arms because things like hospitals didn’t exist. What about the child I had to bury?”

Charlie felt the shock ripple through her as the force of Monroe’s words cut through her. She saw the look on Rachel’s face – the same stubborn assurance that had been there as she had walked out the door with Aaron, leaving Nora to die. “You didn’t know your child?” Rachel shot back but even Charlie could hear the hesitation, as if the answer was just reflexive hatred. The news that Monroe had lost a child clearly wasn’t a surprise to her like it was to Charlie.

But if she heard it, Monroe clearly didn’t and she stepped between them, feeling him slamming into her and knocking her into Miles. She managed to get a grip on his torso and bicep as he reached his arms out towards her mother. “You fucking bitch,” he screamed into Charlie’s ear, and she winced as much from that as the look on his face. It he’d still had the authority to execute Rachel, she doubted he’d hesitate to give the order.

Gene’s door slammed open so hard it bounced back but her grandfather knocked it aside as he came striding out of his room, grabbing his daughter around the waist and pulling her away from Miles. “What in seven hells is going on out here? No,” he snapped, cutting Rachel off as she started to speak. “Never mind. I don’t want to hear about it. Miles, this isn’t going to work. She’s still not well enough yet. He has to go.”

Monroe straightened, clearly composing himself with difficulty and he whirled around, storming back towards his room. Charlie heard the clatter of his swords as he no doubt threw them on the floor and slams of dresser drawers, accentuated by cursing.

Miles’ face was as hard as Charlie had ever seen it as he turned to Rachel, ignoring Gene. “You have a choice here? We’re going to have to fight these guys and it would be easier if you were on our side. But I meant it when I said he was our only chance. Without him. . .we might as well just roll over and let the guys that nuked Philadelphia and Atlanta steamroll us all?”

“We can do this without him.” Rachel snapped but even Charlie heard the pleading in her voice as if she desperately needed to believe it.

“But we’re not going to. So if you’re going to let Charlie and I walk out that door because you can’t get over him, so be it. But I need to know now.”

For a moment she thought Rachel was going to tell Miles to go to hell but her mother spat a curse, jerked herself out of Gene’s grasp and stalked past Miles and Charlie towards Monroe’s room. Gene looked like he was going to go after her but Miles shook his head and it actually stopped her grandfather.

“You might as well quit packing,” Rachel said, her tone bitter but surprisingly resigned as she stepped into Monroe’s doorway. “Because if Miles and Charlie go, I’ll have to go too. Even if I hate you.”

Charlie watched Bass step into the doorway to loom over Rachel and she could tell from the lines of his shoulders how tense he was. “No more than I hate you,” he said, his voice betraying his strain. “But I swear, Rachel, you ever talk about Shelley and the baby that way again and I’ll wring your damn neck.”

She was definitely going to have to get the whole story out of Miles for that, Charlie decided. Preferably without either Rachel or Monroe around.

Rachel nodded, the motion jerky and she spun away from Monroe, as if desperate to put space between them. Gene just looked like his head hurt and Monroe glared at all of them before he glanced back into his room. “So, anyone still interested in going out and figuring out what’s going on around here or are we all just going to kiss, make up and go back to bed.”

She had, Charlie realized, completely forgotten the feeling of dread she’d woken with but Monroe clearly hadn’t. He ducked back into his room and came out with the pair of swords again. “What do you mean?” Rachel asked, sounded confused.

“Well, Rachel,” Monroe snapped and Charlie could sympathize with his sarcastic tone, “your daughter woke up thinking something was wrong. And once she figured out I hadn’t tricked her here to murder Miles in his sleep, she still felt it.”

“Like what sort of wrong?” Gene asked.

“If we knew,” Miles growled, “we’d have done something about it already. But I figure we can go outside and take a look around.”

“Um,” Gene sounded hesitant. “What do you do if it turns out these guys you saw are the problem are watching the house and see you? What’s your excuse for being up?”

“Andovers,” Miles’ reply was laconic. “If they can use them as excuse to murder people, we can use them as an excuse to patrol around the house.”

In the end, they didn’t find anything or even any signs of them and Charlie felt stupid as they walked back inside. “I’m sorry, Miles,” she sighed. “I guess it was nothing.”

Monroe shook his head. “Don’t start doubting yourself like that, Charlotte. Hunches have saved my life and his life more times than we can count. And just because we don’t understand doesn’t mean you should ignore it.”

It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting – more like a sarcastic comment about amateurs and wasting his time. Even Miles nodded grimly. She caught the look her Uncle gave her and she waited in the hallway while Monroe headed towards his room and she lingered in the hallway until the former President had slammed his door.

“I think,” Miles said softly, “that I need to get him out of here for a few days. Just to give your Mom a little more time to get used to the idea. We’ll be back in a week.”

“I’m going with you,” she said hastily and Miles nodded reluctant agreement.

“Your mother is going to flip out over that but I think that’s a good idea. I. . .I could use some help with him. He’s. . .fragile.”

“Never thought I’d hear that phrase applied to Monroe,” she muttered and was surprised at the force of Miles’ glare.

“He always has been. That’s been his problem all along.”

“Who was Shelley?”

Miles exhaled noisily, closing his eyes. “Can we not get into it tonight?”

She was tired as well, she realized, as she nodded. “Fine. But I have to understand this eventually.”

“Yeah, we probably do owe you that. But I. . .later. I promise.”

 

She thought they would leave the next morning but Aaron had clearly done his job of spreading the word that Doctor Gene’s granddaughter was back with a new companion. Charlie forced herself to allow Monroe to sit next to her on the parlor couch and even hold hands with him at times but she had to suppress the desire to wrestle it away from him. Monroe himself seemed to enjoy meeting Gene’s friends and neighbors and was surprisingly talkative. He was putting on a show, she finally decided and it scared her because she sometimes wondered if he lied to her as easily he lied to everyone else.

But no one could suppose this glib, charming man was the hated and feared General Monroe and she grudgingly admitted – if even only to herself – that he was doing a good job. Most of the men seemed to admire him and many of the women made less-than-subtle comments about how lucky Charlie was. She tried not to throw up when she realized they meant how lucky she was to have him in her bed.

Rachel mostly found reasons to be absent for as many of the callers as she could manage and Miles mostly just glared but he’d been there long enough no one seemed to expect anything different from him.

 

It was two days later before they managed to finally get out of Willoughby. Rachel was strained and silent as she hugged Charlie goodbye but at the last minute she’d whispered, “You are coming back in a few days, right?” and gave a ghost of a smile when Charlie nodded. She even – Charlie was surprised to notice – spared a nod towards Bass. Charlie felt the tension in her shoulder up until they walked out the front gates. Gene had offered them the use of his horses but Miles had declined, citing the fact that if they were tracking, they could do it easiest from the ground.

They spent the first three days combing the area around Willoughby – close enough to walk back and sleep at Gene’s house if they’d have wanted to but Charlie was glad no one suggested it, even if it did mean having a watch shift every night. But it was easier with Miles around than it had been when it was just her and Monroe, even if it was odd seeing the two of them together. Most of the time they pretended to ignore each other but she could tell both of them were still hyper-aware of the other’s presence and sometimes – when neither of them noticed – they’d fall into some kind of conversation about perfectly ordinary things but she’d spent enough time with both of them to know they were each more relaxed in each other’s presence. . .as if, despite the sarcastic sniping and petty arguments, there was a sense of joy to them that she’d never felt from either of them before.

It made her sick to realize that – despite everything they’d done to each other – they’d missed each other.

But if there was happiness to see each other, there was also something bothering each of them and it was four nights after they left Willoughby, sitting around the small fire they’d built to roast the pair of rabbits she’d shot, that she decided she was tired of whatever it was they weren’t saying.

“Okay,” she said, her back against a fallen log. “Spill it.”

“Spill what?” Monroe asked, his tone just the right mixture of puzzled that she might have believed if she hadn’t seen his gaze dart over to Miles.

“Whatever it is that’s bugging you both.” The way they glanced at each other and away again made her realize it hadn’t just been her imagination and she also was acutely conscious that their relationship might have facets she really didn’t want to know about.

“Nothing’s bugging us, Charlie,” Miles snapped in a tone that told her to drop it but Monroe glanced over at him.

“Wait a minute, Miles. The Kid’s right. There is something I need to tell you but don’t want to. And if she’s picking up on than I’m damn sure you already know there’s something. So why aren’t you curious?”

Miles grimaced. “Maybe because I’m trying not to push you?”

Monroe snorted. “Yeah, right. I don’t believe that for a second.”

“So just go ahead and tell me, Bass.” Miles sounded resigned but Charlie was pretty sure he glared at her for just a moment before he turned back to the former warlord.

Monroe took a deep breath, grimacing, before he exhaled noisily. “All right, here it goes. I slept with Emma.”

Charlie watched Miles frown and blink, as if trying to process something and she wondered who exactly Emma was. The name sounded familiar but she didn’t couldn’t recall from where.

“You what?” Miles snapped. “Why?”

Monroe winced, running his hand through his hair, starting to pace around the edge of the firelight. “It was stupid. We were drunk and. . . .” he froze, turning to look at Miles with a glare that bordered on suspicious. “You knew?”

“Knew what?” But even to Charlie’s ear, she could hear the resignation in Miles’ tone.

“You bastard. How long have your known?”

Emma, Charlie suddenly recalled, had been the name of the red-haired woman in Jasper. Miles had killed Captain Dixon when his shot at Monroe had killed her but left Monroe only slightly wounded. She’d meant something to Miles, Charlie had known at the time but it wasn’t until the day after she’d died that Jim Hudson had told her Miles had let slip they’d once been engaged.

“I’m a bastard?” Miles yelled. “You slept with my fiancé. How does that make me the bastard here?”

“Because you knew all these years and never said anything.” Monroe froze and Charlie hated the look on his face, all paranoia and suspicion. “No, no you didn’t,” he breathed. “I would have known. And Emma didn’t have time to tell you in Jasper.”

She watched Monroe turn death-white and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You knew.”

Miles didn’t say anything but she didn’t recognize the look on his face and Monroe flung himself towards Miles. Miles didn’t move, as if he was expecting the punch and he went down hard.  
“Monroe,” Charlie yelled, trying to get his attention but he was totally focused on Miles. She stepped between them but she had a feeling that he didn’t even see her.

“You knew how I felt. I had a kid that died and you hid the one that lived from me. . . You son of a bitch. How could you do that to me?”

Miles sat up, rubbing at his jaw and she could read the regret in his face along with the essential stubbornness that was just Miles. “You were off the rails, Bass. No one was safe around you.”

Monroe, Charlie realized, was actually crying. She’d accused him of being able to make his eyes water at will but this one she didn’t doubt. There was no way to replicate the torture in his eyes if he hadn’t felt it.

Just, Charlie reflected, when she thought she knew her Sebastian Monroe, he managed to surprise her again. He was grabbing his bedroll, flinging it over his arm as he grabbed his pack as Miles shoved himself to his feet.

“And where exactly are you going?” her Uncle called and Bass strode over to him, shoving a finger into Miles’ chest. 

“You can take your family and these Patriots for that matter, and you can shove them.”

“I thought you wanted revenge.”

“What I want?” She didn’t think she’d ever heard Monroe more angry, even when Rachel had defied him about the amplifier. “What I care about is my son, Miles. You hid him from me. Now you tell me where he is and I’m out of here.”

“Just help me, and I swear, I’ll tell you where your son is.” She heard the pleading in Miles voice but she was pretty sure Monroe was passed caring.

“No. This is not my problem.”

“Yes it is.” She flinched, knowing Miles was past playing fair and no one was more ruthless than Miles when he was desperate. “Because if you don’t help me, I’ll never help you find your kid.”

Monroe jerked like Miles had hit him, even though there was probably more than ten feet separating them. Whatever they read in each other’s faces was a mystery to her but Monroe turned around and walked out of the circle of firelight.

“Monroe,” she snarled, starting after him but Miles caught her forearm.

“Go ahead and just let him go, Charlie.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t win this without him?” she snapped and was surprised to see a resigned half-smile curve on Miles lips.

“We can’t. But he needs some space. He’ll be back.” He sounded confident but he clearly read the doubt in her face. “I’m the only one who knows where his son is. He needs me.”

 

Monroe was back in the morning, his face harder than she’d ever seen it, even when he’d been General Monroe, and he didn’t speak to either of them as he took the lead. He was going south-east and after about an hour, Charlie walked up to him. “We headed anywhere?”

“Houston.” His tone was clipped and after a minute she realized he wasn’t going to elaborate any further.

“Why?”

“Because it makes sense,” Miles said from behind them and Monroe stopped to turn and glare at him. “If you guys didn’t see any sign of them up in the Plains then odds are they landed around Houston/Galveston area.”

“Get out of my head, Miles,” Monroe snarled even as Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“We going all the way down to Houston?”

“Probably not,” Miles said. “Just want to see if we can get an idea of where they came from. They said they’d been tracking Titus Andover for months. But if they landed in Houston, how’d they even know about him because scumbags like that usually come from the Plains.”

“Probably not anything we can use as proof,” Monroe admitted and she could hear the grudging acceptance in his tone. 

“No. But might be interesting to see what we can smoke out. And besides, I’m interested to see what former resistance members might have found their way to Texas.”

“Well they’ll shoot him on sight,” Charlie commented and was rewarded with a dirty look from Monroe.

“Can’t tell if you’d be sad about that or not. Want to do it yourself, Charlotte?”

He was baiting her and she straightened, stepping a little closer to him.

“Yeah, I do. Tried to, if you remember. And tried to get that bounty hunter to do it when I couldn’t do it myself. Figured that just knowing you were dead would make me feel better.” If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought he almost looked hurt for a moment before the arrogant mask was back in place. “But Miles is right. We need you. And if these are the guys that caused the blackout and ripped my family apart, I’ll even put up with you.”  
“Thought that was me that did all that?” He was baiting her and she shrugged.

“Way I look at it, you were all their puppets. My parents. You. And maybe when they’re gone I’ll go after you again. But for now,” she shrugged. “Let’s just see where this goes. And,” she added after the silence hung around them like a solid thing, “maybe my family owes you a few. What you were saying to Miles. . .”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he snapped, turning his back to her, his long strides eating up the ground. But the air between them didn’t feel as uncomfortable as it had.

 

They found the camp within a week. They counted fourteen people huddled in the remains of an old school, some of them clearly wounded but Miles gestured them outside and they walked until they were clearly out of hearing distance. “Okay,” Miles said. “I’m pretty sure these guys are whatever is left of the Andovers. If we can figure out if any of them knew they were hired, we’ll have something to send to John Fry. Even if he doesn’t believe us, it’ll be something.”

“What’s the plan,” Monroe asked. He and Miles were still cool to each other but she had the feeling both of them were finding it hard to hang on to it – as if no matter how many tic-marks they added to the tally of the other’s wrongs, they still couldn’t really hate each other.

“Go in there, try to cut one of them out of the herd and see what they know.”

“There’s a dozen of them,” Charlie reminded him. “And they appear to be pretty well set-in. So unless we’re planning an assault on the whole darn school. . . .” She trailed off at Miles’ shrug.

“Way I figure it, one of them eventually has to come out to pee.”

She almost echoed Monroe’s sigh. “Really, Miles? That’s your plan?” Monroe didn’t exactly look amused. “It’s November. It’s getting cold. That’s a school. I’ll bet they’re just using some old bathroom and who gives a damn if you can flush or not.”

“Okay, you might have a point there. So we just go set up inside.”

She expected Monroe to protest but he finally shrugged. “Your funeral.”

 

Getting into the school was easier than Charlie expected. There were plenty of places the doors were simply gone. The walls were covered with an assortment of graffiti and old papers that she was surprised hadn’t been scavenged over the years but the orange paint of “Somerville High School” was still vivid.

They scouted for about an hour before they found what was clearly the spot the clan had been using and Charlie tried not to gag. She was grateful when they backed out and chose an old office to wait instead of in the old locker room. The clan had clearly been here for a while because the toilets had been filled and they’d started using the shower-area floor.

They waited for three hours, taking turns napping, when Miles nudged her awake with his foot. “Hey,” he hissed, “one of them just headed outside. I’m going to go see what he’s up to. You and Bass stay here and see if any of them come this way.”

“Miles, don’t be an idiot,” Monroe protested in a harsh whisper. “We should stick together.”

“Not in terrain like this. It’s easier to get tripped up the more of you there are.” Her uncle darted out of the room and she stood, cursing.

“I’m going with him,” she whispered, starting for the door but Monroe grabbed her wrist, his eyes suddenly wide as he dragged them both to a crouch below the level of the cloudy glass window. 

“Looks like he knows what he was talking about,” Monroe breathed in her ear. “There are a couple more of them coming.”

She watched the shadows on the wall as at least two, probably more like three people walked passed. She was just starting to relax when she heard a door slam and a breathless woman’s harsh voice snarling, “We’ve got company.”

“What?” The male voice that answered her sounded surprised “Who’d be out here?”

“That’s easy. We just kill whoever it is,” another woman replied before the first woman cursed.

“I didn’t get a good look at him but I’m pretty sure it was that same damn guy from Willoughby. The one with the crazy dark hair who was so good at killing.” The argument moved on until all Charlie could hear was the blur of their voices.

Monroe dropped his head into his palms. “Not good. How the hell did Miles let himself get made like that. We need to warn him.”

They were partly down the hallway when Charlie heard more booted coming from behind them and she realized she didn’t have time to make it to the door. There was a hallway ahead and she put on a burst of speed, aware Monroe was right behind and she flung herself to the right into what she realized was a dead end locker area.

Monroe had gone left instead of right and she stared across the gap at him but she could tell from the sounds that there were at least six people farther down the hallway who would see them if she moved. But it was the exit sign over his shoulder that caught her eye, probably to some service door but it was a way of the building. He must have seen her staring at it because he turned and she could read the decision in his eyes. She shot him one desperate look but he shrugged just slightly as if to say, “Bad luck, Kid” and then he was gone soundlessly.

They might not have known exactly what they were looking for, Charlie realized, but she had no concealment whatsoever. Unless. . .she said a silent prayer before testing a locker door and nearly breathing in relief when the first one yielded to her touch and swung open as quietly as if its hinges had just been freshly oiled. She tried not to let the bitter disappointment affect her but she still felt it. She’d known Monroe was pissed at Miles, but it hurt that he’d ditched her so easily, as if he’d not once killed six men to save her. And what hurt most of all was the realization that she’d actually started to trust him. Rachel had been right all along about him after all.

She waited in the locker as they walked passed, and she counted six separate sets of footsteps at least. They were done with Monroe, Charlie swore to herself. No matter what Miles said about needing him to win, it was clear he’d be of no use to them whatsoever if they couldn’t trust him to do something as simple as have their backs. She felt herself tensing up and she tried to force herself to relax, still surprised how disappointed she was.

Their footsteps had been gone for a few minutes when she stepped out of the locked and headed to the door to try to find Miles.

She felt the hand at her throat before she ever saw anyone and realized her mistake too late to do anything about it as she found herself pinned against the wall. She tried to kick the man but his arms were long, muscular and covered in tattoos. He just pressed her tighter against the concrete wall and she tried to process that with everything she’d been through, a simple mistake was going to be the reason she was going to be choked to death by a member of a war clan. She tried to head-butt him but he was too far out of range and his buddy laughing behind him would still be there, even if she could manage to grab the knife out of reach on his belt with a hand that was starting to lose feeling.

The friend gasped and through her blackening vision she saw the blur behind him and felt warm splatter against her hand closest to him.

His friend didn’t let up but he was distracted enough he didn’t even seem to notice her going for his knife and burying it into his throat. He dropped with barely a gurgle. It would be Miles, like so many other times he’d come to save her but she saw blue eyes as her vision started to clear.

They might have been war clan but they had automatic rifles and Charlie scooped one up as she saw Monroe do the same with the other.

“You came back,” she gasped, cursing herself for sounding so stupid but even more angry with herself that she was actually happy about it.

He didn’t reply but she followed him back down the hallway past where they’d already come before they broke out into an open room where part of the ceiling had collapsed and created a pile of rubble. She heard a burst of rifle fire and she vaulted over the rubble, landing painfully on her side as she brought the rifle up to fire off a shot. Someone had left the rifle selector on burst and the round she meant to fire turned into at least four. She cursed as she switched over to single shot. At most she only had thirty rounds –assuming there was even that much in the magazine and she couldn’t afford to use them randomly. Lack of fire discipline had always been a pet peeve of Miles.’  
Beside her, Monroe was firing with the confidence of a man who knew he was a good shot and she heard the thuds of bodies hitting the floor. But something told her to look up and she squeezed the trigger in time to put two bullets into a guy coming up behind them. She and Monroe were pressed together, she realized, him facing one way and her facing the other but there appeared to be at least four entrances to the room they were in and she still had no idea how many rounds she really had.

The largest group appeared to be coming at them from Monroe’s direction but he had to be down to the last ten rounds and she took a moment to drop her magazine and heft it before slamming it back into the weapon but she knew just from the weight her suspicions were correct and it hadn’t been full. If she had to guess, she had less than fifteen rounds, she realized and she exchanged a silent glance at Monroe. His jaw was tense and angry and she suspected he was trying to figure out why he’d come back for her as much as she was but she felt a moment of peace. If they were going to die here, at least she wasn’t dying knowing that yet another person in her life had left her.

There was an echo of gunfire from behind them and Charlie snuck a glance up to see the main group was falling rapidly. Miles, she realized, taking advantage of their distraction and coming at them from behind.

One of the guys from her direction popped his head up and she got him between the eyes and the other one in the back of the head as he started to run. She felt guilty for killing someone who was running away only because she didn’t feel bad about it. If the odds hadn’t turned, he’d have killed her and not thought twice about it.

“What the hell?” Miles snapped, walking out into the middle of the gym floor. “I leave you two alone for what, ten minutes?”

“Yeah, well, we weren’t the ones who got spotted,” Monroe shot back. “One of them made you and they spotted us as we were going to warn you. Get down, you idiot, there might be more of them out there.”

“No,” Miles sighed. “We’d counted fourteen and there are nine out there, the three on the other side trying to flank you that Charlie got and then two more in the hallway with a slashed throat and a knife in his sternum.” 

He glanced at them curiously and Monroe shrugged. “The throat was mine, The sternum was Charlie’s.”

“Why’d you let them get that close?” Miles snapped but he didn’t seem to care when Monroe ignored the question.

He did, however, reach a hand up to touch Charlie’s throat and she could only imagine the bruises that were forming. “You okay, Kid?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, pleased her voice was so even, despite the fact she was starting to come down off the combat high. “Monroe was there.” She didn’t mean it as snappishly as it sounded and she felt rather than saw Miles wince.

“Come on then,” her Uncle said. “Let’s see if we can get anything out of this and get the hell out of here.”

 

They found a dozen more rifles but only a few of them had more than a few rounds and some magazines were completely empty. They’d gotten lucky, Charlie realized, when the two she and Bass had killed had better-than half full magazines. The rifles were probably acquired from the Patriots but there was no good way to prove it and they ended up burying most of the rifles because there was no good way to carry them.

It wasn’t until late evening when Miles had gone to sleep and Charlie had been faking it for a while that she finally rose and walked over to where Bass was seated by their tiny fire. She dropped down to sit on the ground next to him. “Why?”

He shrugged, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Well, I realized there wasn’t any story I could come up with that Miles and your mom both wouldn’t blame me for what happened. And I also knew if you died in there, no way Miles would ever tell me where my kid was.”

“So that was it?” She couldn’t understand why she felt the need to ask him or why his answer even mattered other than it bothered her that she could sometimes talk to him without ever speaking. She hated it but she understood that it actually meant something, though she was damn sure she didn’t understand what it was.

Monroe sighed, shifting his position a little but when he spoke, his voice was almost bitter. “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. We both know that. But how – when I claim I’m trying to start over – can I just leave my best friend’s niece to die like that. Just to save my own skin. I say that I want to find my son. But what kind of man would that make me? How could I ever look my kid in the eyes, knowing I’d thrown someone else’s kid away. And I know you blame me for your Dad’s death and you’re probably right. . .so I owe Ben something.” His shoulder slumped. “And I owed you something too. Even if I had found Miles, he probably never would have listened if I’d have come on my own.”

She didn’t speak, not sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t for him to reach out and pat her roughly on the shoulder. “You’re a good person, Charlie. Better than your mother. Better than Miles. And a hell of a lot better than me. I. . .I couldn’t do it.”

They sat in silence for a long time before she rose and went back to her blankets. She settled into them, staring up into the night sky before she rolled over to face him. “Monroe. Thank you.”

He nodded and she turned away, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to sleep but that both of them would be more comfortable if she was faking it.  
They turned back towards Willoughby the middle of the next afternoon when Miles finally admitted the trail was completely cold. They didn’t talk as they made their way through the woods – trying to keep off the highway they were paralleling.

“What’s up with you two?” Miles asked her softly when Monroe had scouted ahead to find a good way to skirt a town.

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asked and he shook his head.

“When did you two get so comfortable?”

She dropped her pack to give her shoulders a rest. “Well we did travel together for quite a while.”

“No, that wasn’t it. You may have come to Willoughby at the same time but you didn’t trust him, no matter what you told Rachel. But ever since that school. . . .”

“I’ve never been sure I could trust him,” she finally admitted. “After the school. . .I know he’s got my back.”

He reached up to touch her throat and the bruises she was sure must be brilliant. “I almost lost you again, didn’t I?” She didn’t answer but she could see from the look in his eyes that she didn’t need to. “Charlie, I –”

She cut him off before he could go on. “Miles, as much as you would like to lock me up somewhere that no one can ever hurt me, it’s not going to happen. And don’t you dare ever leave me behind because I might get hurt. I need to do this as much as you, my mom and Monroe do. But he was there. And I have to get used to the fact he’s going to be around for a while.”

She saw the flash of a smile, quickly hidden and she grinned at him. “What was that?”

He shrugged but then he grimaced. “You’ll hate me. But my two favorite people. . .not hating each other.”

“I never said I didn’t hate him,” she countered quickly. “But if you can accept your two favorite people actually getting along.” She wondered why it didn’t bother her more that he had just admitted he was glad Monroe was around for more than just needing him for the Patriots but she realized she’d known it for a long time.

“Come on,” she said, straightening the shoulder straps on her pack. “We’d better not let him get too far ahead. No telling what he could be getting into without us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02 JAN 15 -- So this is a chapter that should have been here the whole time. . .but I think I was writing this story before the episode where this took place and so it was lost in the "things I want to add" but didn't get to and I couldn't figure out how to add it in later. . .because by the time they could have been fighting the Patriots for real, Bass never would have left Charlie. But I also couldn't have them touching off the Patriot war too early. And then recently I realized I could just write in some leftover Andover clan and TA-DA. Inspiration struck late but at least if finally struck. I always thought Chapters 1 and 2 felt like one chapter so I just combined them and added this.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, fletching arrows. The fall harvest had been disrupted by the Andover clan and the deer had been abundant. Not many citizens from Willoughby were venturing outside the town walls at night with the threat of the Andover clan still being tossed around by the Patriots so the animals had been feasting on semi-neglected crops and early dawn had been good hunting for deer and rabbits both. It was also her excuse to scout the area and the Patriot patrols she'd encountered had warned about the dangers from leftover war clan members but were getting used to her presence.

Monroe sat across the table, the rhythmic scree of a sharpening stone across the steel edge of his sword was almost soothing because it meant he was concentrating and wasn't likely to try to talk to her. They'd been living in the same house for nearly two months and she sometimes still got startled, seeing him at breakfast, passing him in the hallway. He and Miles had fallen back into the easy back-and-forth sniping that each seemed to find comfortable and familiar.

Miles had been planning something, she knew, but he hadn't told anyone what yet. He'd left Willoughby twice more, taking Bass with him both times. Each had lasted about a week and Charlie would have been annoyed at being left out but she was pretty sure Monroe knew nothing more than she did and Miles had taken him more to keep him away from Rachel.

They'd been sitting at the same table, she realized, for nearly an hour. Not talking, not looking at each other. Doing their best, in fact, to pretend the other didn't even exist. The oddest part, she decided, was that after the first few minutes of heightened awareness -- not unlike trying to track where in the room a wasp was -- she didn't even mind he was there. A few months ago she wouldn't have thought it possible to be around him, that the death of her dad and brother were too big to forgive. She'd blamed him for Rachel leaving her when she was a child and -- indirectly -- for Maggie's death. But then she'd learned Miles responsible for Rachel and no matter how hard she tried to hate her uncle, she'd forgiven him of all his crimes, before she ever really knew what they all were. Part of her wanted to blame Monroe for Nora's death but even she couldn't manage that when he'd not sent the people that had killed her; had even fought beside her earlier that day.

She glanced at Monroe, his face tight with concentration. She'd watched him and Miles, over the last two years, as they'd fought each other; their hatred spiraling out of control as they'd drawn more and more people into that fatal funnel. Her dad, her brother, Emma, Georgia, the Rebels, the Militia. She didn't want to forgive him for any of it but even she realized she was clutching a dying flame of rage.

She'd forgiven Miles, who had been as bad if not worse than Monroe if Miles himself was telling the stories. Sometimes she wondered if there was a difference between them. She tried not to shiver. She'd heard Miles talk about the friendship they'd had growing up, heard the pain in his voice the day he'd told her he would need to kill his best friend to get Danny back. But until she'd seem them together, the day to day interaction, she hadn't really understood how much they meant to each other. It hurt to think he might deserve the same forgiveness she demanded other people extend to Miles. But the more she watched them together, the more she wondered if Monroe wasn't just seven years later on the same path her Uncle was following.

The quiet was broken by the back door opening and Miles and Rachel entered, carrying a large wooden box between them. Monroe stood, going to take Rachel's end and her mother yielded it willingly. Together the two men carried it over to the counter and the wooden slats grated over the ceramic tile as they hefted it.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Fish." Her uncle sounded so matter of fact, Charlie almost missed the amusement in his tone.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"It's bass, Bass. 95 pounds worth. And we get to clean them."

The look on the former despot's face was priceless and Charlie almost laughed in spite of her confusion.

"You're kidding!"

"Anything but." Miles pried the lid off the box. "This new so-called U.S. government goes through a lot of food but the Patriots didn't bring much of a baggage train with them. So Doctor Porter's house guests are going to do their civic duty and help out. We'll clean and smoke them for them. Along with whatever other meat they happen to be able to arrange."

Monroe was backing away as Miles yanked a fish out of the box. Charlie wasn't an expert but she was pretty sure it wasn't actually a bass, though she thought the one next to it might have been.

Miles yanked a heavy knife from his belt and sliced the fish head off in one stroke. A second opened its belly and he used the tip of the knife to scrape out the guts. But his knife nicked a membrane and Charlie caught a quick glance of something gleaming before Miles held up three rifle rounds. He dropped them, fish ooze and all, into Monroe's palm.

"Now that's interesting bait," Monroe said, tone going fascinated.

"I have an old contact that is now "working" with the Patriots. A few hundred pounds of fish per week, times a few rounds per fish. Suddenly we have a resistance with assets. Instead of just two washed up, has-been dictators who just happen to be good with swords."

"But we have to clean the fish?"

"Yeah. We have to clean the fish.

She almost laughed at the low rumble of annoyance coming from Bass. "Whose idea was that?" he complained.

"My contact's. This was our compromise on how to get the ammo transported here. This way the Patriots are the ones bringing them in themselves. Lot less likely to get noticed in their own supplies than if they're searching someone else's shipments. What, you didn't think I was spending those trips just trying out the local whiskey and women did you?"

Bass shrugged. "All I knew was you'd dump me in some campsite and leave me to watch the scenery while you'd disappear for a few hours. You could have let me come."

"Not a chance. There's no way this guy would deal if he knew you were involved. He's trusting me that the Patriots are worse than what you were because we fought together against you."

"How," Charlie asked as she stood and walked over to look in the box, "did he get the rounds in the fish?"

"That," Miles admitted "I have no idea. For all I know, he really is using it as bait. I didn't ask. And I'm not sure I want to know."

Rachel came back in, carrying three large metal buckets. "Fillets in this one, guts in this one. " She handed Charlie a knife.

"And the bullets?" Charlie asked.

"Go ahead and just leave them in the guts," Miles said. "In case you get visitors while you're filleting. You can pull them out when you're all done."

"And where," Monroe asked, "do you think you're going?"

"Back to town. Director Truman wanted to have a meeting about what to do with some of the refugees still in the town. He wants to have some of the local families house them until they are sure the area is safe."

"Are you nuts," Monroe hissed. "We can't have more people around here."

"Yeah, why do you think Rachel and I are going. Gene already has a full house so we can stall for now but there may come a time we might want to accept some people. For instance, if we have some of the resistance I'm setting up coming through the area."

Bass opened his hand, conceding the point but he turned and sneered at the box of fish. "So Charlie and I get to clean all that."

Charlie was finished with her arrow and she started to gather her fletching supplies from the table.

"This batch." Miles agreed. "But if my contact can keep supplying like he promises, we may be looking at quite a bit over the next few months. Trust me. We'll all do our share by the time this is done.

Charlie rolled her eyes, going over the the counter and grabbing a large glass pan. She selected 10 fish to fill the pan and carried it back over to the table. Rachel signed, going to a drawer and pulling out an old plastic sheet to spread over the table. After another minute she positioned the third bucket near them. "Go ahead and put the heads in here," she instructed. "They'll still have a bunch of meat on the neck and we can make stock out of them."

Bass wrinkled his nose as he pulled his chair around the table, close enough he and Charlie could share bucket. "Run along, Children. Give my love to the pretenders."

They worked in silence for nearly a half hour, developing a rhythm without speaking; alternating who got up to refill the pan when they were out of fish. The job wasn't difficult but was it was monotonous, slimy and smelly.

"What do you think of Miles and your mom?"

Charlie looked up, startled at the sound of Monroe's voice. "What do you mean?"

"Miles. And your mom."

She shrugged. She'd been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since she'd learned they had more history together than just being in-laws. It was harder, now that they were all living in the same house. But the two of them were clearly trying to avoid it themselves.

I don't know. Part of me wants to be angry about it. But what's to be angry about when they don't even seem to know what's going on." She paused to decapitate a fish. "I'm reserving judgement."

He nodded, as if her answer was a good one, turning back to the fish he was meticulously gutting. After a few more minutes of silence she asked, "And what do you think about it?"

He looked up, locking gazes with her for a long time before he went back to staring at the fish without answering.

"From what I hear of it, you were the one to make him think she was dead. Why?"

He didn't look up, didn't even acknowledge he'd heard her. Just kept slicing away at fish with sure strokes.

"I. . . ." He trailed off, just as she was beginning to think he had no intention of answering her at all. He looked up at her, eyes wide and face twisted. "I knew I was losing Miles. When Rachel first came, it was all about getting the power back on. And they hated each other. But that started to change. He was getting soft. Always wanting to do things he thought would make her happy. Leaving early to go home to her."

He finished a fish and thew it in the bucket with more force than he needed. The tray was empty and he grabbed it, even though it was her turn to re-fill it. With his back to her he started to speak again. "I didn't set the bomb that took out the whole row of houses. Six of them. We never even really knew for sure if the men we caught were truly responsible. They were guilty of crimes against the Republic, and that was enough. There was a body in the house we had her in. I really did think it was hers."

"Who was it?"

"They told me they think it was a woman named Susan. She did washing. They didn't figure it out for three days. That was when they were digging thought the back yard and found Rachel under a part of the wall that had collapsed." He set the tray of fish back down and took his seat across from her.

"So you showed this Susan to Uncle Miles?"

"She was blond and badly burned. I truly did think it was Rachel at the time."

"So why didn't you tell him?"

"It was three days later. It had been raining and it was cold. She was still unconscious and she had a fever. He's already left for Baltimore. Because that's where the ringleaders of the cell were based."

"And Miles' nickname was the Butcher of Baltimore."

Monroe shrugged. "Actually, he got that before Rachel came to us. But let's just say, after he thought she died, no one was rushing to suggest a new one. I sent her to Annapolis. To a doctor there. There were only four people who knew she was still alive and I told them I didn't want him to find out she was alive because we didn't think she'd make it. All four of them died, in fighting, before he got back. Then Miles came back and it was like I had my brother again. I kept telling myself I'd wait, because I still hadn't heard for sure that she would live. She was in a coma nearly a month. I even told myself I was doing it to spare him the pain of losing her twice, since I really though she would die. But then she woke up. And I told myself I'd wait till she was able to walk again. Then it was when he got back from a trip to consolidate Virginia. But in the end, I never told him. I told myself that what he was doing; it was what we always should have been. And I couldn't lose him again."

Monroe laughed, the sound harsh. "And then, a few years later. . . .I kept telling myself she was my trump card. If someone could bring him in he'd stay because she was there. But he never came back. Till he came with you." He clenched his jaw. "I think, that day, when I offered him a place again, if it had just been you and Danny, he'd have said yes. But he was angry about her."

"So you had Danny killed." She couldn't disguise the bitterness in her voice.

"What really happened? The day Danny died."

"Your helicopters were coming to destroy the rebel headquarters in Annapolis. Mom and Miles had gotten ahold of a pendent and some rocket launchers to try to stop them. I begged Danny to not be there. But he wouldn't do it. Miles got knocked out and Danny grabbed the rocket and shot down the helicopter with the amplifier in it." She could feel the tears running down her face. "The other helicopter was crashing and the gunner was firing. I don't even think he was aiming at anything."

"I've done a lot of terrible things in my life, Charlotte. I won't attempt to deny it. But even I don't control dying men's reflexes." He looked back at his fish as she tried to wipe the tears with the back of her hand.

"Danny wouldn't have been there. Not if you hadn't taken him."

He kept cutting fish. "I asked for Ben. Specifically. I won't pretend I didn't use your brother to my advantage, once I had him. But I never asked for him. Only Ben. Alive." He selected another fish. "Though, as you say, I am ultimately responsible for all of it."

She selected another fish, her hands slimy and bloody from the fish guts. The fish opened easily to her knife and she saw a gleam before she pulled out the guts and dropped them into the bucket. They clanked dully, hard metal and hard metal, separated by fish entrails.

He glanced at her, as if daring her to ask more questions.

"That town, where you and Miles grew up?"

"I crossed the line there. Trying to kill everyone to draw him out." She wasn't sure if he knew his eyes had filled with tears but then he brushed them away. "If I hadn't done it, she'd still be alive."

"Miles said if anyone pulled the trigger, he'd shoot them himself. And when Captain Dixon did, Miles killed him."

Monroe laughed, but his voice cracked. "Miles never told you why he didn't shoot me there. Or why I was putting my gun down, did he?"

Charlie shook her head. "I had no idea until that night when the three of us were looking for Andovers. I always assumed he was figuring she was reminding you of happier times."

"Happier times?" He wiped his eyes again and she thought back to the day she'd accused him if being able to tear-up at will to manipulate people. But she realized she was seeing very real grief.

"Miles and I. . . we'd shared women before. But Emma had always been off limits. We'd all grown up together and she was special to him."

"I know you slept with her too and she got pregnant"

"After we enlisted. Before we shipped. We were all drunk and Miles was passed out and. . . ." He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Charlie could see how red they were. "I loved her too. Maybe because I did. Maybe because I couldn't stand him having something I couldn't share. But whatever reason, I really did. She didn't tell either of us she was pregnant. Till I was holding a gun to her head and she begged me not to kill her because she wanted to see her son again. Our son."

"Did you ever stop to think she could have been lying. You were holding a gun to her head."

"Not then. Later, I wondered. Until Miles told me that night. . .that he helped hide him from me."

"How are you doing with that?"

"Remember last week when I had a black eye? Told everyone I ran into the closet door."

"Yeah?"

"I was trying to get some information about my son. . .he wouldn't tell me anything else. I. . .didn't react well."

"So he punched you in self defense?"

Monroe looked embarrassed. "Not really. I went to take a swing at him and tripped and hit the closet door. Actually knocked myself out. When I woke up I tried to go for him again but he just held me down and reminded me which one of us really had a right to be mad. And how I had been so off the rails I'd have either destroyed the boy by corrupting him or made him hate me. And the terrible thing is, he's probably right. It's like a little piece of me I never knew about but now that I do the hole gets a little bigger every day."

"So what are you still doing here?"

"My men were never able to find him. And I had them look. But no one would ever admit they knew anything about him and all Miles will tell me is that -- after this thing with the Patriots is over -- if I've not gone crazy again, he'll help me find him. But I have to prove to him that I'm better."

"Are you for-sure it was really your kid? What if it was Miles and she was lying to you because you had her at gunpoint?"

Monroe shook his head. "Miles said he was definitely mine. If it had been Miles' she'd have had no reason to break up with him when he was in Basic. She sent him a letter. I was there when he got it. Besides," he glanced sideways at her. "Miles was always obsessive about birth control."

"And you weren't?"

"Later. But I was young and drunk."

She rose to get more fish, noting with disgust they weren't even a third of the way done.

"So how does he feel about it. You having a child with his fiance? I keep meaning to ask him but I can't think of a good way to bring it up. I mean, we both know that he feels guilty for not telling you. . .but he's bound to be getting over that a little and remembering that you did have sex with his fiance."

"He's still pissed about it. He'd had some time to get used to the idea. I think he was trying to make a big deal of it to try to distract me about being mad at him for concealing that he knew I had a son. So I just reminded him about my first girlfriend and he dropped the whole thing."

"Your first girlfriend?"

Bass had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "Yeah. Her name was Miley Parker."

"What did Miles do?"

"We were playing poker, Miles, myself and a couple of other guys from the neighborhood. "I was all-in when Miles raised and since I didn't have any money, he said that if I lost I had to ask her out."

"So I lost, and I asked her out and she accepted; but then Miles told her about the bet and she dumped me and he asked her to the movies and the two of them got kicked out for making out in the back."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen." He ran a hand through his hair, apparently having forgotten about the fish guts. His close-cropped curls stood up in a line along the slime-path he'd left. "When you're fourteen it's barely permissible to like a girl and if I'd have won the hand, there is no way I could have asked her out after winning a bet that I'd have to if I lost."

"That's still a pretty sad reason to ask someone out. Losing a bet."

"Throwing it. I folded with three aces and two sevens. I lost 15 dollars for that. Two weeks of mowing the lawn and picking up dog crap. I really liked her. Miles claimed he was saving me from having to take her out when he thought I didn't like her but he knew I couldn't have asked her out if I'd have won and I'm pretty sure he knew I had a great hand."

"Are all teenage boys that crazy?" Charlie asked. "Because, really, I always wondered about some of the stupid stuff that boys in my town did. And if that's any example of how you all behave, I wonder that the species survived at all."

"The species survives," Monroe announced, leaving back and regarding her though eyes that were suddenly half closed, "not because the other gender makes any sense; but because sex is just so damn fun. Ever tried it?"

Charlie felt herself turn bright red. "Sex?" She meant to sound angry but it came out like a squeak.

"That's none of my business. I meant having fun?" He looked at her with what seemed like genuine curiosity. "You just always seem so uptight."

"Ever been around me when my father wasn't murdered, my brother abducted or dead, my friends missing, my mother absent, on the run for my life or a gun in my face?"

"Not for a long time."

She dropped the fish she was gutting into the gut bucket and had to pull it out, brushing slime off it. "Wait, what?"

"I knew your Dad growing up too. We weren't close like Miles and I were because he was a few years older than we were. But I still knew him. After my family was all killed by a drunk driver, Miles used to drag me home with him for holidays. I think he was afraid of leaving me alone.

She only had a vague memory of Miles pre-blackout, taking her for a ride in his car, radio blaring and the two of them singing. She closed her eyes and while she couldn't see the memory, she could feel the leather of the car seat and the sound of Miles' voice and suddenly she was aware of a presence in the backseat laughing at her Uncle. "She'll be a heart breaker in a few decades, Miles. Ben and Rachel will be beating them off with sticks."

"Keep your opinions to yourself. And that means in a few decades too."

The memory faded and Charlie shook her head, glancing over at Monroe.

"You remember it, don't you?"

"No," she snapped.

"I don't believe you, Charlotte. Ever wonder why I call you that?"

"Because you're trying to annoy me."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Think about it."

She closed her eyes again and the feel of a long-gone car faded to be replaced by a soft fabric that had felt like suede. She still couldn't picture it but she remembered the feeling of the couch of the house they'd lived in before the blackout and abruptly she could see the brown fabric. Dimly she was aware of the feel of legs dangling but she was wedged securely against a warm side that she instinctively knew belonged to Ben.

"But why are you named after a fish?" she heard a little-girl voice demand, tone annoyed-curious.

"Its short for Sebastian. Like Charlie's short for Charlotte."

The memory faded mercifully before HIS voice could continue.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Charlie said, feeling her stomach lurch.

In reply Monroe slapped a fish on the table next to her. "Don't think about it." There was a surprising amount of sympathy to his tone as he turned back to his own fish. "Or else it will drive you crazy. Just like all those teenage boys did. Now," his voice edged with laughter, "if I had to guess, at least half of it was just trying to get your attention."

"Well then they shouldn't have acted like morons. Really, there are lots of better ways to impress a girl."

"Girls may thinks so. But trust me, to a guy, flowers or jewelry is scary."

She couldn't help laughing, her amusement increasing as he looked confused. "Your pre-blackout sensibilities are showing. Try something like a new knife. If that's even too soppy then sharpen your knife and offer to do hers too. Or pick berries with her or help skin a deer or," she glanced at the box on the counter, "offer to gut her fish for her."

Monroe exploded with laughter, wiping his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Want me to gut your fish for you? No guy could get away with saying that. It sounds like I mean something else entirely."

Charlie smiled. "Okay, it does sound kind of bad."

"Kind of bad? Even post-blackout I'd get slapped if I tried to use that, even if the fish was right there." He threw a handful of fish guts into the offal pail. "Still, I'm tempted to say that to you in front of Miles. Just to watch him."

"Try it in front of my mother. I dare you."

He paused, then grinned. "I think not. She'd gut ME. Though I'm almost tempted to try it; just to watch her coronary before I died."

They resumed gutting in silence, motions smooth and practiced. Grab a fish; one slice to take its head off; toss the head in the bucket; a slice to open the belly and a quick slice to remove the guts and whatever ammo was hidden in them; remove the spine and any bones that came away easily with it; chop off the fins; another cut to bisect the back so the fish was divided into two pieces; then a final cut to chop it into four parts; toss it in with the other fillets; select another fish; and another.

They were down to a third of the box, Charlie's back protesting sitting in a cramped position for over an hour when Monroe shifted his grip on his knife, eyes suddenly flat and unfriendly. His head cocked, jaw clenching. The front door banged and he tensed, looking like was about to come out of his chair but just as suddenly he relaxed, grabbing another fish, slicing the head off and flipping into the bucket with a lazy grace just as Gene walked into the kitchen.

Charlie forced herself to smile. "Hey, Grandpa."

Gene stopped in the doorway, looking at the buckets and box of fish and shook his head. "Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," Monroe grinned. "But it looks respectable."

Gene rolled his eyes. "I suppose that's all I can ask. Oh, I can use that on my garden." He started to reach for the guts bucket but stepped back as both Charlie and Monroe came up out of their chairs. "Looks respectable, huh?"

They both sat back down, Monroe whistling tunelessly. "You can have it in a little while," Charlie told him.

Gene shrugged. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Probably not," Charlie admitted but Monroe interrupted. 

"You can get us the rest of the fish out of the box." He pointed to the empty glass pan.

"I don't suppose I can help finish, can I?" Gene asked as he stacked fish in the pan.

"We're almost done." Charlie said. "No point in your getting your hands slimy for just the last few. But Mom was talking about making stock out of the heads. If you could get some water to rinse them and to make stock, that would be nice."

Gene looked a little more cheerful. "That, I can do." He pulled a large stock pot from the cupboard and carried it outside. He came back in a few minutes later and grabbed another bucket they used for water. When he came back with that full he poured it over the fish heads in the bucket in front of Charlie then started checking the coals on the stove.

Bass tossed a fish head and it arced into the bucket. Charlie shot him a dirty look as it splashed her with water and he made a face at her behind Gene's back.

They worked in silence as Gene chopped vegetables and added spices to the water and finally her grandfather looked over at them. "Were you two this quiet the whole time or are you just not able to talk in front of me?"

Charlie bit her lip as Monroe selected another fish, keeping his face expressionless as he said, "we were debating the method of teenage courtship. I say throwing a bet to get to take a girl out is perfectly acceptable but she disagrees. Charlie prefers pickup lines." Gene's face was almost priceless, Charlie thought, as he glared at Monroe. Indignation was clearly vying with shock as his mouth hung open. "Her favorite is someone asking if they can gut her fish. I personally think the double entendre is a bit much myself. But kids these days."

Gene's eyes were darting between them, the rage fading as Charlie doubled over, trying not to laugh but not succeeding well. He finally shook his head, turning back to the pot as he muttered, "Well, at least its not drums or throwing stars." He glared at Monroe. "You don't play drums, do you."

"Not that I'm aware of."

For some reason that seemed to satisfy Gene, who went back to dicing carrots. "I guess after chopping that many fish, odd topics are bound to come up."

"It beat the dead relative conversation," Charlie agreed, aware as soon as she said it that it was the wrong thing. She'd been thinking of Bass' family, killed by a drunk driver but both men clearly thought she'd been talking about Danny and her dad. The three of them lapsed into silence and Monroe even started lining the fish heads on the table in front of him instead of tossing them into the bucket and splashing her. The easy camaraderie bled out of their air and Charlie glanced at Monroe. His earlier grace at cleaning the fish had given way to practiced but joyless butchery.

She thought she was the only one to notice but after about 15 minutes, Gene suddenly turned around and glared at him. "Have you and Miles. . .decided what you're going to do yet?"

Monroe shrugged. "Not yet."

"Are you going to restart the Republic?"

Monroe looked up, hand jerking on his knife. "Hells no," he snapped, eyes suddenly fiery. "I'm not sure what we're doing but we WON'T do that. Not again. Not with me in charge." After a minute he grinned slowly. "Stick Miles with it this time and call it the Matheson Republic. Then I can take off and leave Miles holding the bag."

Gene shook his head. "I never understood why people followed you. You were just that cocky kid that hung around with Miles. Nothing special. Then you move into my house and I start finding my mood changes when yours does. How the hell do you do that?"

Monroe frowned, face genuinely puzzled. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Maybe you don't. But did you ever wonder why everyone always did what you wanted them to; always tried to make you happy?" Charlie tried not to gasp. She hadn't thought about it but suddenly she realized her grandfather was right. When Monroe was happy, everyone was. And when he was upset. . . .

"No. Not really."

Gene turned to Charlie. "Maybe I'm the one going crazy here."

She shook her head. "No, I feel it to." She looked at Bass. "When you're in a good mood and driveling that stupid nonsense that you do; and yet everything feels right with the world."

Bass shook his head. "I don't know what you two are talking about. Miles can be like that. But not me."

"I," Gene announced, "as a general rule, don't give a rats ass about how Miles Matheson feels. Good, bad or indifferent. You, on the other hand."

Charlie spoke slowly. "Miles does have it too. That ability to motivate and influence. But Grandpa's right. Not like you do. You wanted me to hate and fear you. . .and I admit, you made it easy. But then you decided you wanted me to trust you. Do you know how hard it is to want to do that, when I have all these reasons I shouldn't. She shook her head as she tossed the her last fish into the fillet bucket.

Monroe still had one in front of him that he'd removed the head and guts but he was paying extra attention to the bones, pulling them one by one.

"I, uh." He looked over at her and even though his eyes were dry something in his expression showed how rattled he was. "I need some air. Finish this for me." He shoved the fish at her and grabbed the gut bucket. "Did you want this any particular place in the garden?"

"Go ahead and just put it all in the blue compost tub near the strawberry bed. Make sure its filled with water so it all cures together."

"Sure." He walked out, head high but something about the set of his shoulders was brittle.

Charlie finished the last fish with a few quick slices of her knife as Gene stared at the kitchen door. "There," her grandfather commented, "goes probably one of the most dangerous men in the world. He kills Ben and Danny and yet all of us. You, me, Rachel, Miles; all of us let him stay here. Makes me wonder where we went so wrong. Or where he did."

Gene glanced around the kitchen. "If you need to help him, with whatever part of that bucket looks respectable but isn't, go ahead. I can take care of those." He gestured at the fish heads. "I can put the fillets in the cold room until Miles gets back. I assume he knows what he's doing with them."

"Smoking them, I think. Thanks, Grandpa." She rose, shaking the kinks out of her shoulders and back. She'd been getting fish for probably nearly two hours and her muscles were protesting at the change in position. 

She found Monroe at the edge of the woodpile nearest to the garden shed, out of view of the house. He had the guts bucket and another bucket on either side of him and he glanced up as she walked over to him.

"If you want to help, dig though this with me. He shifted so she could see a piece of canvas spread across the ground, a small pile of slime-d ammo on it. She grabbed a handful of fish guts and probed through it, coming up with a shotgun shell, three M4 rounds and a dozen or so musket balls. They sorted in silence for a few minutes before Monroe's hand brushed hers as they were going for fish guts. Somehow he ended up holding the tips of her fingers and to Charlie's shock he stood up, pulling her up with him and against him as he crushed her against him. He was shaking but she wasn't sure if he was crying and she got a glimpse of dry blue eyes before he buried his face in her neck. He leaned against her and she could feel his breath, warm in the curve of her shoulder. He arms went around her waist, pulling her closer but he held his hands away, though there was enough fish spatter on the front of her shirt she didn't think a little more on the back was going to matter.

After a minute she moved her arms to copy his and she felt him begin to relax, the rigid trembles starting to face until he finally stepped away from her, face calm. "I'm sorry," he murmured, crouching down and resuming his search thought the fish guts. "I owe you more than that."

"More than what?" Considering the fish splat all over her pants, she didn't think the slightly damp ground could be any worse and she knelt to grab another handful of offal,"

"That. Using you as emotional band-aid or some kind of security blanket. I did that to Miles and every time I used him to replace something that was missing in my life I tried to convince myself that I wasn't a monster because this man -- who was my world -- loved me in return and I didn't need anything else. Then I started not carrying for anyone or anything; killing people and their families because they weren't relevant to us. And you know how that ended."

"So how did you cope. After he left."

Monroe huffed a joyless snort. "I didn't. I think I had this crazy idea that if I could just do the right thing he'd come back. But every time I came up with a plan I'd change my mind and decide there was a better way. I. . .I got pretty. . .unhinged, there towards the end."

"Did you. . .were you and Uncle Miles. . . ." She trailed off, not sure she wanted to know the answer or even if it were any of her business.

"Were we lovers?" He asked the question for her.

"Yeah?"

"If anyone had asked me that, even a year ago, I probably would have had them executed. But Tom Neville told me I had a borderline erotic fixation on Miles. Which really pissed me off at the time. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how it must have looked to the rest of the world. So no, I have never had sex with Miles -- I never wanted to. But I may have been more healthy if I had."

"Closet homosexual?"

"Bisexual at most. I kind of have a thing for women. If I'd have met him in college, or the military, I have no idea what might have happened. I've never felt the same way about anyone else. But my sisters died before they were really old enough for me to be close with them and Miles and I grew up together. I really am not just compensating when I call him my brother. That's really how I think of him."

The gut pail was empty, the pile of miscellaneous ammo was fairly unimpressive considering it had taken so long to prepare all the fish. But it was more than they had that morning. "Where do we put this?"

Monroe shook his head. "Not sure what Miles wants to do with it. But for now?" He rolled the canvas around it, moved some of the logs in the woodpile and packed them back around so the canvas didn't shot. "That'll do till he gets home."

They each grabbed a bucket -- he took the full one -- and walked over to the pump, topping each bucket with water. They carried them back to the faded plastic tub by the strawberry bed, adding the fish guts and the water. "That's really going to stink when the sun hits it?" Monroe commented as they headed back towards the pump.

"It might," Miles said, stepping through the kitchen doorway and walking towards them. "But you know, you both really stink right now."

"What do you expect. I've been gutting your fish. Hard to smell good after that." Monroe was totally deadpan and Charlie tried to hide her grin at the look on Miles' face. It went from shock to outrage to curiosity and finally settled on tolerant bewilderment.

"Do you know. . .never mind. I don't even want to know if you know what that sounds like." He bit his lower lip. "But I need you two to get cleaned up. Really cleaned up. Truman has decided to host a dinner for prominent Willoughby families and as the town Doctor, Gene and his house guests merit an invitation."

"Short notice." Monroe observed and Miles grimaced.

"It means they either want us all in one place or they want everyone out of their houses. From what I hear, there will be plenty of people there so I doubt he's gone plans to kill us with so many witnesses. Most likely there is a handful of places they want to search and they're inviting enough others people won't be suspicious."

"Still," Monroe commented, "Not easy to pull together a dinner at the last minute. Not these days. What time?"

"Seven. its about four now. Oh, and he as good as told me he knows who I really am. But apparently my flight from the Monroe Republic puts me on the side of Angels and he's trying to get me to use my Rebel contact to recruit people for the Patriots."

Monroe grimaced. "What'd you tell him?"

"That most my contacts were in Atlanta and Philadelphia and probably got vaporized when you and Foster nuked each other. Along with you and Foster. He didn't seem to know whether to believe me or not but he doesn't seem too actively suspicious. As long as a keep a low profile and offer to keep gutting his fish for him." Miles shot a dirty look at Monroe. "And thanks so much, but now I can't use that phrase without throwing up a little." Bass smirked.

"At least I don't think he's too suspicious." Miles started glancing back and forth between Monroe and Charlie, looking guilty, Charlie realized.

"Miles, what's wrong," she asked and he winced.

"He has actually twigged to the fact that 'James Kingston' matches the description of Sebastian Monroe. He seemed to believe me when I said it wasn't and that you two met during your visit to the Plains Nation. But he wanted to know how soon 'James' was moving on and. . .well, I panicked."

"What do you mean, you panicked," Monroe asked, his voice approaching paranoid.

"You mean you told him that Monroe was some guy I dragged back from the Plains Nation for immoral reasons?" Charlie asked and Miles winced.

"Kid, I swear, I was trying to come up with something else. But there was Rachel, sitting next to me and icing up -- which is a perfectly natural reaction for any woman hearing about her daughter's lover. Anything else I could have come up with wouldn't have fit nearly as well. Besides, hasn't that been the story the whole time?"

"So," Charlie said slowly. "You need us to go to dinner and act like lovers."

"Not too over the top." Miles shot a warning glance at Monroe. "Not like crazy teenager, or people that hate each other. Just like adults."

Monroe's eyes were abstracted, expression distant but he nodded as if he barely heard Miles. "You said seven?"

"Yeah. Gives us plenty of time to get ready."

Bass nodded. "I'll need to talk to Gene first. And Rachel. They're her family, they can act a little annoyed about me. . . but they have to know that she's playing part." He looked at Charlie. "Or you're going to be so busy trying to convince them of that, no one will believe it." He took a deep breath. "And Miles, I need you to get them out of the way for a little bit. I'm going to need to talk to Charlie. Alone."

Charlie opened her mouth to protest but Miles stiffened first. "If you--"

"I won't." He turned to look at Charlie, eyes focusing. "Why don't you go get a bath. Miles and I can take care of the fish."

Miles nodded. "Good idea. You have fish slime in your hair, Kid." He turned to Bass. "Then again, so do you."

"Yeah, but my hair dries faster." Monroe pumped water to splash over his hands and arms, rubbing briskly to try to knock off the worst of the slime.

He worked the handle for Charlie and she scrubbed as best she could.

"Fair enough," Miles commented, grabbing the now empty buckets. He and Monroe walked away together, head bent together, voices low and Charlie felt her stomach knot at the though of pretending to be his lover. But part of her admitted the nausea was because she was angry at herself for feeling left out of Miles and Monroe's planning and an even smaller part of her was worried she wouldn't hate the act. Gene's words had a ring of truth to them, Charlie reflected. When Monroe was happy, people around him felt it. And not just because they though there was less chance of him executing them when he was in a good mood.

She was as clean as cold water could make her, Charlie realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the first to have the hand-written work I started after Patriot Games. I had to cut a lot out (I knew I would) because I was repeating myself a lot. I'm typing directly into the page rather that doing a word document and pasting it over so I'll probably need to to go back and re-edit a third time. The end of this chapter is the very first line on Page 14 and I have 82 sheets of paper (double sided, which makes 164 pages. . .but it's hand-written and needs a lot of revising so I figure I have at least 5 more chapters, just to get to the end of what's hand-written. I think everyone can pretty much guess what happens from here (at least the general concept) and at least now you know what I meant about the fish. I admit, they were kind a surprise to me. I had Miles and Rachel come in carrying a box and I started to wonder what could be in the box that could force Charlie and Monroe to spend all afternoon alone together, in the same room, to eventually start having a conversation. In the end, fish seemed like something that would be heavy, pack a lot in a wooden case, and be a lot of work.


	4. Chapter 4

Gene had converted an outbuilding to a surgery – though Charlie noticed he treated most of his routine patients at the house, but a room had been turned into a bath-house. Because a doctor needed a great deal of hot water – some of it in a hurry – he had modified an old hot water tank over a fire-pit. A series of gravity-operated pipes fed into it from a nearby spring and a converted spigot off the pipe before the tank provided cold water. Charlie had been appalled how much wood it took, but at least once a week someone would show up with a wagon of wood and she learned it was part of the payment the town provided to Gene.

Rachel was filling the tub in the bath-house when Charlie walked in and her mother glanced over at her. “Good. You’re first because I don’t need to wash my hair.” Rachel’s nose wrinkled a little but she didn't comment. “How hot do you want it?”

Like most Texas afternoons, the humidity was high and a cool bath would have felt wonderful but Charlie sniffed herself and commented, “Better make it pretty hot.”

Rachel adjusted the tap, checking the temperature with her hand. “Soap’s there. I put out some towels and a robe and I can put your clothes in to soak while you’re bathing.”

“Thanks. “ Charlie stripped, making sure to turn the fabric inside out so – while they still stank – at least the ooze was on the inside and wouldn't get all over Rachel. The cistern had a pipe into a shed built into the outer wall where they did their laundry

Rachel was half-way to the door when Charlie said, “Mom,” and Rachel turned around. She could see the tension lines on her mother’s face but her expression wasn't angry. “Miles told me. About needing to pretend Monroe and I are a couple.”

Rachel sighed, holding up her hand to stop Charlie from continuing. “I used to think he was the worst person in the world. Then the Tower. I get it, Charlie. As much as we hate it, we need him. Because there are much worse people put there and we all have to do our part. This is as much for Danny and Ben as trying to stop Monroe was.”

“So you won’t be ma?. At seeing us pretend to be together?”

Rachel snorted, an intelligent sound so totally at odds with her constantly in control attitude that Charlie almost smiled. “I won’t say I won’t be mad. But I’m lucky. I don’t have to pretend to like it. Your role is the one I don’t envy.”

“I wonder what Monroe thinks about it?” She really had no idea what he thought of her. They could be incredibly comfortable together and desperately awkward, depending on each others moods. But one moment he could clutch her like a drowning man clinging to a rope and the next act like any human being would have done as well to anchor him and that she was nothing more than a convenient warm body. And almost always, she got the vague impression that all the things he said to her were in some way really directed towards Miles, regardless of whether her uncle was present or not.

Rachel raised one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” Her face abruptly sobered. “And again, I don’t envy you.”

“What do you mean.”

“Because I’ll have a hard enough time knowing what you do is an act. You’re going to have to deal with remembering what he does is too.”

She almost asked what Rachel meant but she realized she understood. As Rachel left Charlie allowed herself a single, bitter smile. She almost – almost – felt sorry for the Patriots.

Her skin stung with the heat of the water but she forced herself to duck her head under and stay there until she had to come up for air. By then she’s acclimatized and even shivered as she stood in the tub to lather her whole body with a thick, pale cream colored bar. It was made by a woman who kept goats and used some of the milk in the soap along with dried herbs. This one had chamomile and rosemary leaves and Charlie scrubbed briskly. The tub itself had looked like it had once been a large tin water trough, longer than a normal bath but able to accommodate most patients.

The shampoo bottle was old, brittle; its pale pink plastic so faded the name was all but lost. Once-upon-a-time such things had been common throw-away items and Charlie wondered what it would be like to throw away bottles with as little thought as killing a fly. She squeezed a generous amount into her hand. The same woman made the shampoo who made the bars of soap and the thick paste had the sharp scent of lavender and roses. The flowers were raised as bee crops, Charlie knew; planted to attract the vital pollinators, but were put to use themselves.

She dunked herself back under water, strands of hair slipping though her fingers with deceptive ease. As soon as it dried, she knew it would be a harsh, tangled mess of fly-away ends unless she added some form of conditioner.

Rachel made the conditioner herself. Her hair was much like Charlie’s and this batch was another bottle filled half with water shed boiled with rosemary twigs, adding half an avocado and a drizzle of precious olive oil. The mixture was a brownish green smear across Charlie’s palm and she worked it carefully into her hair, trying to use as little as possible. Avocados were available depending on the season but they were expensive and with both women using it, it wouldn’t last long.

She was just stepping out of the tub when Rachel came back in. Her mother added only a few inches of water for her own bath and was finished before Charlie had even gotten most of the water toweled out of her hair. They walked back to the house together and Rachel had lit a fire in the downstairs spare room that had once been Charlie’s grandmothers sewing room. Rachel helped Charlie fan her hair in front of the flames to dry it most of the way before Rachel braided it back from her temples , meeting in the middle of the back of her head and joining together in a single braid down her back. It kept her hair pulled back out o her face but left most of it loose at the same time. Charlie took a quick peek in the mirror. It made her look about 15 years old.

The closet held a variety of clothes that Charlie realized had been her grandmothers and Rachel pulled out a dress that was so pale a blue that it looked white. It had a barely scooped neck, 3/4 sleeves and calf length skirt.

“I’ll look about 10 in that.”

“I know you would. That’s why I’m wearing it.” Rachel went back into the closet and came out with three other dresses. One was a cream dress with a halter top, the other was a deep burgundy with capped sleeves and scooped neck. It was fitted to the bodice but flared at the hip to the knee. The third dress was a shade of green that wasn't mint or jade or sage but had slightly shiny threads woven together that made it all three, depending on where the light hit it. It also had capped sleeves and the neck was a modest V, the skirt falling nearly to her ankles. 

Charlie pulled it on and she stared at herself as Rachel zipped it up. It looked like the type of dress she’s have seen women in Atlanta wearing, or something Julia Neville would have owned. She looked grown up, she realized.

Rachel smiled at her. “You look beautiful But not that one.”

“Why not?” Charlie asked. 

“Try on the maroon one.” Rachel unzipped her and Charlie slid out of the green dress, putting it carefully on the chair. There was no harm in trying on the other dress, though she already knew she wanted to wear the green one.

The burgundy dress was more fitted in the bodice. It made her look older, sexier, edgier. But she overestimated when she thought it was knee length. It barely came to the middle of her thighs.

“That’s the one.” Rachel said and Charlie turned to stare at her mother. 

“I wore a dress longer than this when I was pretending to be a prostitute.”

Rachel looked started but then her lips twisted. “Point taken.” She ducked back into the closet and came out with black fabric that turned out to be a pair of slacks rather than another dress. “Put these on. Use the dress as a top.”

While Charlie was fastening them, Rachel went back in and emerged with a black wrap, its edges fringed in silk.

“What’s wrong with the green one?”

“Nothing, really. But you don’t look like you. More like someone pretending to be someone else. You’ll have enough of that tonight without it reflecting in your clothes. “ She saw the way Charlie looked the green dress and smiled. “Another time. When it’s not the first night you’re trying to pretend to be in love with Bass.”

She glanced at herself in the mirror and realized Rachel as right. No one would question someone who looked like this being with someone like him. She wondered if Rachel had thought of that too.

She left Rachel to dress and found Miles in the kitchen. He’d clearly had a chance to bathe because his hair was still wet. He was banking the fire under the put of fish-broth. The garlic-and-onions scent had taken the edge of the fish-smell and she felt her stomach rumble.

When Miles straightened they both stared at each other for a moment and he let out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a whistle of admiration. “You clean up nice, Kid.”

“Thanks. So do you.” He was in black slacks and a pale gray dress shirt with a black jacket and a shimmery-blue tie. He grinned in what looked like self-conscious embarrassment. They both turned when Gene walked in and her grandfather immediately folded her in a tight hug. He was teared up and Charlie realized it was probably one of the first times someone had worn her grandmother’s dresses since she had died.

Charlie heard Bass before she saw him and she felt her own eyes widen a little when she turned. Like Miles he was in slacks and a jacket but his dress shirt was a light sage green; the tie a few shades darker. He hadn’t shaved but he’d trimmed his facial hair. Miles frowned. “Took you long enough. Thought you were wearing the blue shirt?”

“I was. But after you left I was looking at it and realized it was really close to the color of my Militia uniform. Even with this,” he gestured at his cropped beard, “I looked like General Monroe. So I grabbed that burgundy one you decided not to go with and had just gotten the tie done with Rachel came in and told me it was the same color Charlie was wearing and we didn’t want to look like we were trying to match.”

The two men exchanged some sort of glance she didn't understand but Miles turned to her grandfather. “Come on, Gene. I’ll help you hook up the wagon.”

She watched them go out the kitchen door, suddenly intensely aware of Monroe as he walked over to her and jerked his head towards the parlor. “Come on, Charlie. We need to talk.

She followed him into the parlor, late afternoon sunlight slipping through drawn shutters. He looked almost nervous, which surprised her and he started to say something twice before rejecting it and finally blurting out, “People act different around each other after they've had sex.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not having sex with you.”

“I’m not asking you to. I didn't ask for this either but since it’s here, I’m going to have to sell it. We both are.”

She opened her mouth to protest but the image of her brother dying was abruptly replaced by the memory of Randall Flynn shooting the controls to the ICBMs; Aaron and Rachel’s frantic attempts to shut the power back down again to try to kill the guidance systems; Miles desperate countdown. He’d stopped at two, not even being able to bring himself to say “one” as they’d watched the satellite feeds of the mushroom clouds over Atlanta and Philadelphia. Rachel had been in shock, Aaron desperate to figure out why the system had crashed and Tom Neville had burst in the door but he’d immediately realized things had gone so wrong that he’d not even tried to stop them when they fled as the power had began surging. 

“Okay.” He blinked in surprise. Whatever he’d been expecting, that clearly wasn't it. “I get it. I don’t like it. But I get it.”

He nodded, slowly. “Okay then.” He took a deep breath. “The hardest part is going to be your letting go of needing everyone else to know how much you hate me. We don’t have to be all over each other. But we have to seem comfortable together. Not like we have something to prove.”

“Like today. Gut. . .er, cleaning fish.”

He grinned. ”Yeah. Something like that. Only with an audience.”

“So how do we do that?” She was aware her voice was icy but she could feel the muscles in her stomach trembling, acutely aware how close he was standing.

“Do you trust me?”

He took a step towards her but stopped when she flinched away. After a moment she forced herself a step closer. There were just a few inches between them. She braced herself as his head lowered towards her and forced herself to accept his kiss but he turned his head slightly away from her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her gently against him.

He was warm and smelled faintly of the same soap she’d used overlying his own scent. If aromas had colors, she’d have called his a deep, mossy green that brought to mind oak-barreled whiskey and fine waxed wood.

She felt herself fidget and his arm adjusted around her waist. He turned his head to murmur, “shh” into her ear before resting his cheek on the top of her head and she shifted to lie against his chest instead of the hard knot on his tie.

He’d held her before but this was the first time it lacked any urgency, the two of them just standing quietly.

She was aware of the way the light was fading, the distant sounds of Miles and Gene calling to each other, rattling harness. Rachel’s footsteps going out the back kitchen door. 

She almost missed his warmth as he stepped away but he ran his right hand down her left arm taking her fingers and leading her to the couch. He seated himself in the corner and drew her down so she was sitting across his lap. His hands moved to her shoulders to kneed at the muscles and she bit her lip to suppress a groan of appreciation at the purely physical sensation.

She’d had real lovers but they’d all been frantic encounters, desperate scrambles with no time and no intimacy. None had ever involved just sitting together. She was used to just being a convenient warm body available for release and she’d been just as guilty of treating her partners the same way. 

It wasn't the aggressive sexuality she’d imagined from him but something stirred in her she’d never felt sitting with any of her companions and it took her a moment to place the feeling and she nearly jerked away from him when she did. *So this is what it would feel like to be loved?* She bit hard down on her tongue. He was acting, she told herself firmly. 

“My name,” Monroe said softly, “Is James Kingston. I was born April 3, 1982 in Pittsburgh. I was the only child of Craig and Janet Kingston. Dad was a teacher and mom was a bank teller. I joined the Marine Corps after 9-11 and did a tour in Iraq. Mostly guarded the airfield at Al Asad, but I did some convoys to Baghdad and Mosul. I did my six years and got out to go to college. Texas A&M to be a psych major. My parents were coming to visit and I got a text from Mom about an hour before the blackout that they’re were about to take-off.”

She had only been six years old, but Charlie still remembered the sight of jetliners spiraling down and the distant explosions.

“After that, I wondered the country, spent some time back east but decided to head west again to avoid the militias. I was in a bar in Texas when this girl walked in. She got something to eat and some guys started giving her a hard time. It was pretty obvious they’d drugged her and I stepped in to help. I’d always been good at fighting and I didn't stick around to find out what happened to her attackers. Just got us both out of there. We stayed together after she came-to and we decided to travel together. Eventually she decided she wanted to go back to family in Willoughby and I came along because I had nowhere else to go.”

He nuzzled her on the top of the head, fingers still working on the muscles in her neck. One of his hands dropped to splay across the small of her back, then run up her spine. Despite the familiarity of the gesture, there was also something soothing to it. His head moved to her shoulder, breath stirring her hair. “Charlotte.” His voice was barely more than a puff of air against her ear; lips suddenly soft and warm against the skin of her throat. “Charlotte,”

She turned her head to his and his eyes were a vivid blue before his eyelids drooped and he brought his lips to hers. They were parted slightly but he made no move to deepen the kiss. The scruff of his beard scraped lightly against her skin; caught at the hairs on her neck and stirred nerve endings. He kept the pressure of his lips gentle.

She wasn't expecting it when he stood suddenly and she almost fell backwards but he caught and steadied her onto her feet before he strode to the window, staring out. “Sorry.” His voice as strained. I didn't want . . .I’m still human.”

Charlie felt herself blush but her outraged shock was tempered by what had to be a bizarrely funny side to the situation and she covered her mouth with her hand, even though he was still turned away. “Oh. Sorry.”

He waved a hand vaguely. “Not your fault. Its been a long. . . .never mind.”

The sight of General Sebastian Monroe, blushing and unable to look her in the face, felt like it melted some tiny corner of ice that felt permanently wrapped around her soul and she felt the laughter welling, escaping around the hand that still covered her mouth. 

His head whipped around and he glared at her. “It’s not funny.” She wiped her eyes and his expression softened. “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”

His discomfort was surprisingly empowering and for the first time since his men had came into her village she felt like it was she – not him – who was in control. She strolled across the room towards the window, letting her breast just barely graze the back of his arm as she took his hand. She felt him tense as she threaded their fingers together . “You were right. People do react different to each other after they've slept together. And a really easy way to give the whole thing away is to act embarrassed every time something comes up.” She hadn't meant the double-entendre but she recognized it as soon as she uttered and from his growl he clearly thought she’d done it on purpose.

“I’m trying to show you that you can trust me not to hurt you so you can be comfortable with me. Physical connection doesn't always have to be about sex.”

“Except in James Kingsley's case it would be. He’s hanging around because apparently I’m pretty fantastic in bed. He’s not here for Miles or Rachel or revenge on the Patriots.” She was surprising herself with how angry she was getting and almost laughed that she was jealous of MILES. But the knot in her throat wouldn't let it pass.

Monroe's arm wrapped around her shoulder and he pulled her against his side, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "I get it." 

"Get what?" She meant to sound cold but even she could hear the catch of tears in her voice.

"You may think you're complicated, Charlotte. And in some ways you are. But your father and brother died, your mother was absent for most of your life, Nor and Maggie died and Miles, for all he seems like he's your world, you wonder if he'll really always be there. And now you're asking, what's wrong with me that he doesn't want me too. Which is actually totally backwards because no one ever said I was just here for Miles. Besides, if I don't want you, that probably means you're doing something right."

She felt that familiar swell of panic that they'd all leave her but suddenly his words penetrated. "Wait, how did you know about Maggie?" 

"Jason Neville provided a report of everything that happened when he was with you. I gather she was Ben's girlfriend."

"She was the town doctor. She was English and was in the U.S. for business when the blackout happened. She lived with us."

"Did you love her?"

"I didn't realize I did until she was dying. I was always angry, growing up, that she was trying to take Mom's place. But she came with me, after Dad died. Even when I didn't want her to."

"I'm sorry."

If there was anyone, she realized, who also understood 'everyone gone', as much as she hated it, he could.

"Why did she leave us for him?" she burst out. "Why did he take her? I still don't understand." He clearly understood she was referring to Miles and Rachel but his only answer was tightening his arm around her. On impulse she stood on her toes and kissed him gently on the cheek. His smile startled her almost as much as the knock on the door and she tried to jerk away from him but his arm went rigid.

"Reflexes, Charlotte. And while we think its your family out there, one day it may be Patriots. Come in," he called and Rachel opened the door.

"Have you had long enough?" Her voice was edged with sarcasm but her face wasn't angry. The pale blue dress had seemed simple when Charlie had seen it on the hanger but on Rachel, with her hair twisted up into a knot of curls, it reflected that indefinable elegance that Charlie envied.

"See," Monroe teased. "Her part is easy. I'm sleeping with her daughter. She's allowed not to like me."

"Well," Charlie tried matching his tone. "Maybe you and I have one of those relationships where we fight all the time."

Monroe laughed. "Charlie, people have those types of relationships just because they like make-up sex. Let's not go there."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Thank you. Now, if you two are done defining your relationship, the wagon in ready. Charlie, I have a coat for you for the ride. That wrap may not be warm enough once the sun goes down."

"Why are we taking the wagon? Its a 15 minute walk at most."

Rachel lifted one foot, showing off white leather shoes with a heel that had to be two inches. "For these. And because we're there to make an impression. It won't do for the doctor and his family to show up on foot."

"Horses," Monroe said, his voice going dry, "mean wealth, and social prominence. We're important in Willoughby. And now we get to see if we can use that to find out anything about what they're up to."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is FINALLY complete. If you read it on 9DEC between about 1p and 10:15p Pacific Time, you probably didn't get the whole chapter because the "save without posting" feature wasn't available and I was typing from a handwritten notebook directly into the website and updating every 15-20 mins in case my computer crashed I wouldn't have to start over. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Dinner, it seemed, was not being held in the brick building in downtown Willoughby which the Patriots had set up as their headquarters. Instead, Gene drove them to a stately home on the outskirts of town that apparently served as billets for their officers. Rachel explained that the house had once belonged to an actor who had visited between filming but he'd been in California during the Blackout and no one had ever come back. The President of Texas had appropriated it afterwards to use whenever he visited and the Texas Rangers often used it when they were staying nearby. A uniformed Patriot met them in the driveway and offered to take the wagon and they strolled towards the stone-facade front. Charlie's eyes shifted to the lawn where a once large pool was empty and she and Monroe exchanged quick smiles.

They were met at the door by another uniformed Patriot who let them to a large reception room, scattered with groups of chairs and Charlie counted at least 50 candles before she gave up even trying. There were a number of Patriots in uniform helping people with coats and wraps but she could see Truman and at least ten other Patriots she recognized from town wearing civilian clothes. Gene and Rachel were greeting people and Miles, Monroe and Charlie clustered behind her. Her mother -- social smile firmly in place -- turned to murmur that guests appeared to be themselves, some of the larger farmers and shop owners, a number of the teachers, the minister and his wife, and a husband and wife who had been judges before the blackout and still served as Willoughby's court system. To Charlie's relief she spotted Aaron and Cynthia chatting with another one of the teachers and the minister as well as several people she was pretty sure were Patriots. Monroe, she noticed, had headed towards the bar. One of the Patriots introduced himself as Sergeant Major Michaels and pointed to the brand on Charlie's arm.

"Forgive me for asking but that's the symbol of the Monroe Republic, isn't it?" She nodded and he asked, "We've been debating the merits of conscription but none of us have actually ever been conscripted. What's your opinion on them?" 

"But Charlie wasn't really conscripted," Aaron protested. "She arranged to get captured because we were trying to rescue a boy that had been conscripted. Well," he jerked his head at the brand, "I guess it was kind of real. But she never fought for the Monroe Republic."

"Conscription," Bass said softy but his voice was firm and easily distinguishable, even among the background chatter from other guests, "are a terrible idea. I served six years in the Marine Corps before I got out to go to college and we knew, every one of us, that the man fighting with us wanted to be there of his own free will. And that's the person you can rely on in a fight. Not the kid that was dragged out of his house." They all turned to look at him and he smiled serenely. "I got you a drink," he said, handing Charlie a glass of something that was a crimson-orange and reminded her of a sunset. She tried a small sip and the long-forgotten taste of orange juice flooded her taste-buds, mixed with another tangy sweetness she couldn't identify. "Hope you like it."

"Its amazing," she admitted. "Thanks, hon."

Aaron, who had managed to keep a straight face during Monroe's conscription speech, glanced between them, blinked twice and said, "Good idea. Cynthia, do you want anything?"

"Sure." She looked over at Charlie's drink. "What's that?"

Charlie handed her over a glass and the brunette teacher's eyes widened. "Yes, please. Some of that, So, James, you think conscription cheapens service?" She sounded earnest and Charlie had to remind herself that -- despite the fact hat she had visited with Aaron -- Cynthia had no idea who Miles, let along Monroe, really were.

"Hey, Charlie," Aaron asked. "Can you come to the bar with me so I can make sure I get the right drink?"

She stepped away as Monroe started to answer, glad to get some distance between them. His ability to convince people was always unnerving, making her question what she believed about him as well.

"Are you alright?" Aaron asked as soon as they were away from the group and she shook her head. He leaned close to her. "If it helps, everyone kind of already thinks you two are together."

"But I've never had to act like it until now. But this way Miles is hoping people associate Monroe with me instead of him." They'd danced around the implications the first night she'd brought Monroe to Willoughby. But standing in a room filled with people -- even if she barely knew most of them -- was different.

"How are you doing?' Aaron asked and she shrugged. Aaron had been with her the entire journey from Wisconsin to Chicago; Chicago to Philadelphia. He'd been there when both Ben and Danny had died; watched her go from trying to save her brother to trying to destroy Monroe. He'd gone to Colorado with Rachel to try to restore the power and she knew he was still racked with guilt that the system had locked up before he could prevent the ICBMs from landing in Philadelphia and Atlanta. Whether he really had been able to light people on fire with his thoughts, Charlie wasn't so sure. But Miles himself admitted he didn't know exactly what had happened the night before she had returned to Willoughby. He'd stopped by a few times, Charlie realized, in the few weeks since she'd been back, but he'd not had the same daily witness to Monroe seeming to shake off the persona of the dictator with all the enthusiasm of someone closing the door on a brutal snowstorm. Sure there were times when you needed to go back outside to get more wood or water, but it wasn't ever pleasant.

"I've used a lot of people lately," she finally answered. "Why would this be any different?"

Aaron started to speak but stopped himself with a quick shake of the head as if to drive away bad thoughts . He started to turn back towards the bad but Charlie put a hand on his arm. She moved her hand to take his and squeezed tightly. If there had been less people she'd have hugged him. He looked her and smiled, beard covering the laugh lines around his mouth but not the ones around his eyes.

*To hell with an audience.* Charlie leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, and he tilted his head.

"For what?"

"For ALWAYS being there for me. No matter what. I don't think I could. . . ." She stopped when she heard her voice start to crack and he put an arm around her, comforting as a favorite security blanket.

"No, thank you. For never pushing me away." Charlie saw both Monroe and Cynthia glancing at the, and Aaron grinned. "Come on, lets get those drinks before we're both crying."

It was cranberry juice, the bar attendant told her, when Charlie asked what was in her drink besides orange juice. Apparently it was normally mixed with vodka, the woman informed her, but her friend had asked for it plain. Charlie hadn't seen the pretty blond woman before when she'd been wandering around Willoughby, tracking patrol schedules and troop numbers. But she had no trace of a Texas accent and something about the way she seemed to hold herself implied she wasn't merely hired help. The was also looking at Charlie with what seemed like an unusual amount of interest but then her gaze flicked over to Monroe, the aloofness gone in one hungry glance. 

Charlie drained her glass and handed it back over. "Could I get some more of that please. It was amazing." The woman's brown eyes softened a little. She looked to be in her thirties, slender but muscular. 

The woman gestured behind at bottles of alcohol. "With or without?"

"Without. I'm kind of a lightweight and it would suck if I started giggling." It was a lie but it seemed a good excuse for not drinking.

"And yours?" she asked Aaron, her eyes drifting back towards Monroe.

"Mine without. Um, I'm not sure about Cynthia's. No, better do without because she liked Charlie's. I can ask her when I get her a refill if she wants some then."

They accepted the drinks when the attendant finished them and crossed back to Monroe and Cynthia were still debating with the other members of the group. Apparently in their absence the conversation had moved on to right to bear arms. Cynthia, it seemed, didn't care for guns and thought they should only be in the hands of law enforcement.

"But," Monroe countered as Aaron handed Cynthia her glass, "that hasn't worked so well. You ideals are good, I won't deny that. In a perfect world I'd probably even support it myself. But our world isn't perfect -- never has been. Part of our problem since the blackout and the fall of the government," he tipped his glass filled with some kind of red wine in the direction of Sergeant Major Michaels and the other two Patriots in the group, "is that we got away from the Constitution. When governments didn't use it as their foundations. Monroe, Georgia, California. They all tried to make a utopia by restricting firearms and they all failed at it."

"So you think the Plains Nation is better than Georgia?" the Minister asked.

"Better. Maybe not. But more balanced. The Plains Nation is brute force and if you can't use it, then it will tear you apart. But you have the ability to defend yourself. Georgia, if you were depending on someone to protect you and they weren't there in time, you died. Look at the Monroe Republic. The Militia was the only armed force and when they started to corrupt from the inside no one was able to stand up to them."

"Can he," Aaron whispered, "hear himself?"

"Take Texas," Monroe continued. "Granted, I wasn't here when the Andover Clan was attacking. But I've heard the stories. If that would have happened in the Monroe Republic or Georgia or California then the entire town would have been wiped out before help ever arrived." He smiled at Cynthia. "I wish we did live in a world where we didn't need guns but we never did. How old were you, before the blackout?"

"Fifteen. I guess I was still pretty naive."

"It's idealism. Nothing wrong with that. It's an enviable quality, especially in a teacher to pass on to her students. A lot of people of my generation seemed to think the world ended at the blackout. Because we can't have what we once did. We lost hope. But just because we can't have the world as we know if, doesn't mean the next generation can't build up something better. People went mad, doing terrible things because they thought it was all over. But it wasn't, and we don't have to be stuck like this. Lights and the internet were an unknown quality a few hundred years ago but that didn't stop people from inventing them. No telling what someone else will invent a few hundred years from now."

"Do you really think so?" one of the Patriot officers asked and Monroe chuckled.

"Not usually in so many words. But the general concept, yeah. I had a hard time. . .for a really long time, after the blackout. I had a long walk with my own demons but one day I woke up and realized I could keep on down that road or I could accept my world had ended and I could accept my new one." He grinned, "but I'm sure I'm not the only one here with an opinion. Reverend," he gestured to the minister, "how do you think the blackout accepted people's faith?"

The minister was just starting to reply when Miles came up and snagged Charlie's hand. He nodded politely, "Excuse me while I steal Charlie fora minute."

"What's up," she asked softly as he led her away but he shook his head slightly, walking her over to where Rachel was talking to a woman in a lavender silk dress, her arm linked with Director Truman's. She was probably ten years older than Rachel and her blond hair was heavily laced with silver but she had the same elegant grace to her that Charlie associated with people like her mother and Julia Neville.

Rachel smiled at her. "Director Truman, Mrs Truman, this is my daughter, Charlie. Charlie, I know you've seen Director Truman but we owe him our lives. If the Patriots hadn't come when they did."

"Miss Matheson, a pleasure," Mrs Truman murmured.

"Glad to hear you say that, Rachel," Truman smiled at both of them like a benevolent guardian . " I know you were pretty worried when we first showed up."

"Considering Mom's history with governments," Charlie commented, "you really can't blame her."

Truman frowned and Mrs Truman said, "I know a lot of people feel like the United States betrayed then when they fled to Cuba. But surely you understand that, if they hadn't left, they would have been destroyed forever and wouldn't have ever been able com come back at all."

"Not that government," Rachel said, her voice laced with pain. "The Monroe Republic."

"Oh," Mrs Truman touched her hand to her lips. "I'm so sorry. I forgot he had your husband and son killed."

"And he held me as a political prisoner for nearly ten years." Rachel's voice was like a cold whip. "I missed my children growing up because of that man."

Truman turned to glare at Miles, still standing behind Charlie. "And you let that happen?" When Miles raised an eyebrow Truman signed. "Sorry, Stu." He turned back to Rachel. "Your brother-in-law let that happen?" But he glanced over at Miles, who sighed,

"Miles Matheson," her uncle answered, voice dark, "what not a very nice person for a very long time. And he was willing to sacrifice his sister-in-law to his ambition to secure power for the Monroe Republic. But he thought she died less than a year later. He really didn't know -- when he left the Monroe Republic -- that she was still alive."

Truman turned back to Rachel. "So the rumors are true. You did re-start the power?"

Rachel's face crumpled but her face was steady. "For four minutes. Yes, I did. Just long enough to Monroe and Foster to bomb each others cities into oblivion. And, horrible as that may be, it might have been worth it if the world would have had the power restored permanently but something went wrong and the system causing the blackout took over again and nothing we could do would shut it down again." She looked up at Truman, tears in her eyes. "I know if sounds selfish but I can't go back there. It wouldn't do any good, even if I did. I did everything I could and it wasn't enough. I may be able to give you names of some colleagues," she added, "if you do want to have someone else try."

"A conversation for another time," Truman said, taking Rachel's hand and squeezing it. "Charlie, how are you enjoying being back in Willoughby. I understand you took a trip West recently."

"I did. After everything that had happened in the last year with my father and brother and fighting with Georgia against Monroe and the Tower, I needed some time to myself. So I thought I'd travel a little. I had originally planned to go all the way West to see the Pacific Ocean."

"What was it like?" Mrs Truman asked.

"I don't know. I woke up one morning and realized I missed my mom. So I turned around and came home."

Mrs Truman smiled, reaching out to take one of Charlie's hands and patting it. "Well bless you, my dear. I think your mother is very lucky. Now, Edward, I do believe we should go seat our guests for dinner, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." Truman raised his voice to project across the entire room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention. If you will all follow me into the Dining Room, dinner will be served shortly."

Monroe, Charlie noticed, was finishing an exchange with one of the shopkeepers and he detached himself to wander over to her and like their arms together as Truman and his wife walked through a set up double doors a Patriot opened for them. "Anything good from the Patriots?"

She pitched her voice so only he could hear it. "No. In fact it feels like we're giving away more than we're getting."

"Establishing cover. And the closer it is to the truth the better. So much easier to keep track of that way. Besides, if they know something and we lie about it makes them wonder what else we could be lying about."

"Your assuming they don't know everything. Including who you are."

He snorted. "If they knew who I was they'd have put a bullet between my eyes already. Shall we?" He led her into the stream of people shuffling into the dining room.

The room was set up with four large tables, each circled by eight chairs. The tables were already set with gleaming china, glass and silver, vases of flowers clustered around candles. A set of french doors led out into what appeared to be a garden and a massive fireplace on the same wall was empty in the warmth of the Texas evening. A server in a black jacket asked their names and directed them towards the table closest to the french doors. They found their names written on white cards in elaborate script. Monroe was seated on her left and she took a quick peek at the card on her right but the name Paul Lincoln was unfamilar to her, Nor, she realized, leaning over, was Carissa Bailey, who was seated to Monroe's left. Monroe held her chair as the other Texans seated themselves and Charlie recognized one of the local farmers, and the judges, though she couldn't recall their names. They were both in their sixties but Charlie recalled they had a small farm as well and the active life showed in the lines of their skin and sinewy frames. He had dark red hair, peppered with gray and hers was chocolate and silver, worn down in loose waves. Her dress was baby blue silk with pale yellow lace sleeves but her necklace was what riveted Charlie's eyes. It was some kind of cascade of teardrops of blue and yellow stones.

"That's beautiful," Charlie said when the older woman caught her staring. "Are those yellow diamonds." A fortune's worth.

"Sadly," the woman said, "No. It's costume jewelry that belonged to my grandmother, probably from the 1930s. Colored glass. Completely valueless but I'm like a bird when it comes to shiny things." She smiled. "I admit, I made this dress to go with it. It was actually two dresses, pre-blackout, that I found in a vintage shop. The yellow one was badly stained in the bodice but. . . ." she lifted the hem of her skirt a few inches to show off a petticoat of yellow lace that forced the silk into flounces. "You're Gene's granddaughter, aren't you." She took the seat directly across the table from Charlie, her husband at her size.

"Charlie Matheson."

"Marybeth Wilson-Russo." She gestured at Charlie's top. "I have to say, that's certainly a pretty color on you."

"Thanks." Charlie laughed, "It was one of my grandmothers cocktail dresses but she was shorted than me so Mom came up with the idea of using it as a top. I'm actually a little worried about being the only woman I've seen wearing pants."

Marybeth waved her hand dismissively. "Well it looks lovely. Besides, I think I've seen some of our hosts wearing pants and if it's what you're comfortable wearing." Her face abruptly looked sad. "Most of us here were already grown up before the blackout happened and we're a little more used to getting dressed up. How old were you?"

"Six."

"Well I was 46. Probably more than half my life spent already. I'm sorry you didn't have more of a chance to explore what the world once had to offer."

"Maybe. But maybe for me it was easier. Its hard to miss what you barely remember." TV, internet, cars, electric lights. Far-flung family able to get together easily. "My world grew from what happened rather than being torn apart because of it." But if she though about it, she realized, it would drive her crazy. The thought of her parents raising her and Danny together, Miles stopping by on leave to visit -- maybe even bringing Bass with him.

"Wise words," Marybeth said. "I don't believe you've met my husband, Peter."

They exchanged greeting with him and the other man who was sitting at their table. Mike was one of the farmers, a thick-muscled man in his mid-fifties with a milt manner like the world amused him.

"What do you miss most about world pre-blackout and Marybeth shook her head.

"On nights like this. Air conditioning."

Peter laughed. "That and the ice machine in our fridge. Charlie?"

"I was too young to remember much. But probably phones. Being able to talk to someone a long way away; to be able to find them if they weren't where you thought they'd be." She nodded at Mike.

"Easily, my tractor. It takes me days with mules to do the same job I used to do in hours. He raised his chin in Monroe's direction. "James?"

"Music." Monroe took a sip of water. "I know it still exists but once-upon-a-time we used to be able to listen to it wherever and whenever we wanted. Just as background noise. I don't think I ever appreciated it until it was gone. But there's this one piece. I don't even know the name or even if I ever heard the whole thing but I keep hearing it in my head. He hummed a few snatches of something that sounded disjointed to Charlie but Marybeth's face showed started understanding and she began to hum along with Bass. Her voice was a counterpoint to his that filled in a melody, swelling it into something haunting and enchanting at the same time.

Bass grinned as they finished up, though it almost sounded to Charlie like it could have kept going. "That's it. You know it?"

"Bolero. By Maurice Ravel. My brother played the oboe and he played in a community orchestra that performed it once. I've loved it ever since."

"That's what I mean," Monroe said. "People still get together to play and sing, but getting to hear them is rare."

Two other women and a man were walking towards their table. The man was mid-twenties with fair skin and dark blonde hair and Charlie felt her heart lurch as it always did when she saw someone with coloring similar to Danny's. He seated himself to Charlie's right and smiled at her. "Hi. I'm Paul." He held out a hand and she shook it as the two women also seated themselves.

One of them was a pretty but generic blond who seated herself between Peter and Mike who Charlie heard introduce herself as Ann. The seat next to Monroe was taken by the bar attendant. She had shed her black jacket and was dressed in a pair of black slacks that molded to her curves and a beaded while silk tank top that she'd paired with a white silk wrap with bead fringe. "Hello again," she said to Monroe, leaning in to shake his hand. Her hair had been braided at the bar but she'd taken it out, revealing a generous mass of dark curls that spilled over her shoulders to frame the low cut decolletage of her top.

Charlie missed Monroe's reply in the general introductions around the table but she did hear the woman saying, "Captain Carissa Bailey."

Carissa leaned around Bass to smile at Charlie. "Did your friend like her drink?"

"She did," Charlie replied. 

"Good. It's one of my specialties. Like I said, orange juice and cranberry juice but the real secret is a shot of pineapple juice. That's what gives it that exotic tang. And, if there would have been alcohol in it, it would have covered that to make it taste better."

"So how does a Captain end up tending bad," Monroe asked, giving her a lazy smile that Charlie recognized as info-gathering.

The woman leaned a little closer, clearly mistaking it for flirtation. "Oh, I love doing it. Matching the drink with the customer. I'm very rarely wrong. Though, I admit, when you were walking up I had you pegged as a whiskey or scotch man. I was surprised when you went with tequila and cranberry juice."

"What's wrong with tequila?" Bass had shifted a tiny bit closer as well. There was no reason, Charlie scolded herself, that she should feel jealous that he was flirting with someone else.

"Well, it's usually a younger mans drink. You seemed like you had more class."

Monroe started to laugh. "Oh, Ma'am, do you ever have me wrong. Class and I parted company a long time ago." He looked over at Charlie and suddenly his smile turned warm. "At least where it comes to alcohol." He took Charlie's hand and squeezed it, not being too obvious but not trying to hide it either. "Besides, I have a reputation to live down to."

"I hope you don't mind my asking," Carissa said, "but I did notice there seems to be quite an age difference.

The grin Monroe gave her was sharp but not particularly hostile. "Call is grace of gods or whatever you will. Fortunately because of the maturity difference between men and women I may may be nearly twice her physical age but that makes me right about her mental age. So she puts up with me because I make her laugh. And," he voice dropped to a stage whisper that projected to the entire table. "I make a mean roast squirrel."

Everyone laughed then went back to chatting but Charlie noticed Captain Bailey had shifted back to the center of her chair, her body language no longer projecting predator in Bass' direction.

Servers began bringing plates of salads, mixed greens with shredded carrots, chopped tomatoes. Charlie didn't recognize the dressing but it was dark brown, with a bite of vinegar but it had a creamy textures and small chunks of nuts in it as well. "What do you think," Paul asked, gesturing to the salad.

"It's good. I was just wondering what was in it."

The woman who'd caller herself Ann smiled. "Mustard, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and peanut butter."

"All common ingredients before the blackout," Paul commented. "Now we had to get the peanuts from South Carolina, olive oil from California, Balsamic from Florida and who knows where on earth they got the mustard."

"Which is why," Charlie commented, "meals for me generally consist of whatever I've shot and some bread baked from flour, water and salt over a campfire. Makes it easier. Still," she admitted, taking another bite, "it's as nice change."

The servers came back to take the empty dishes, replacing them with plates with a generous potion of sliced roast meat, mashed potatoes and gravy and green beans that had been lightly grilled with chunks of bacon and slivers of onion.

"Once," Ann commented, "something like this would have been unheard of at a dinner party. It would have been 4-6 courses with just a few bites per course to showcase a variety of ingredients. But then again, they'd have had grocery stores."

"I remember dinner parties like that," Peter said. "It was usually more about the sauces than what they were on."

"I remember them too," Marybeth said darkly. "You either stopped for burgers on your way there or your way home because otherwise you were starving,"

"The difference," Mike said, "seems to be the purpose. Once eating together was almost purely social rather than about sustainment. Like you said, if you were still hungry there was always a drive-thru but the point was all style. Now people are in it to be fed and wealth is demonstrated in quantity rather than the variety."

"That and its a rare thing to find someone on a diet now-days," Marybeth added. "At one point a hearty meal implied you were just in it for the food, not the experience. Now people are a little more honest. They are in it for the food."

"A different standard of wealth," Carissa commented. 

The conversation grew more sporadic after that as everyone focused on the food and Charlie found herself enjoying the fact that there was no part of it that she had caught, killed, cleaned, cooked, weeded, watered or would need to clear up and she felt a tiny swell of pity for whatever lowest ranking private would get stuck with the dishes.

When they were finished the serves brought plates of chocolate cake covered in mashed strawberries. The whole thing was drizzled with a golden sauce Charlie vaguely remembered tasting when she was younger but couldn't recall it it was caramel or butterscotch but was delicious. She tried to eat slowly to savor the rare luxury of dessert, flickering memories of the night of the blackout when her parents let her eat all the ice cream as it had melted. Her father had encouraged her to go slow, urging her "I want you to really remember what it tastes like."

She tried to be discreet about licking the last of the chocolate off her fork but she saw Bass glance at her and his smile went wicked. He had half a strawberry left on his place, oozing over with sauce and he picked it up, holding it out to her with an expression that practically screamed "I dare you."

Judging from the way he was grinning at her, she realized she was probably giving him a dirty look but everyone else was also looking at them and it would cause more attention to refuse than play along with his supposedly generous affection. She leaned close to his hand,taking the berry in her teeth but her tongue flicked out to catch a drop of sauce off the tip of his thumb and on impulse, she let her lips linger,rolling the remains of the strawberry in her mouth.

By the widening of his eyes, she realized she'd shocked him and she drew back, suddenly conscious of everyone else at the table, but everyone appeared to be amused at the "romantic" exchange and had either missed or was choosing to ignore their brief lapse in manners.

Across the room, Mrs Truman rose and, as if coordinated, everyone else did as well. "Ladies," Mrs Truman called, her voice carrying across the suddenly hushed room, "I'd like to invite you all to join me in the drawing room."

Charlie tensed, eyes darting to the exits but Monroe leaned over, ostensibly to kiss her on the cheek but he whispered, "Don't worry. It's an old custom." She relaxed slightly, still not fully comfortable with separating herself and Rachel from Miles and Monroe but she followed Marybeth, who seemed to consider the exodus perfectly natural.

Mrs Truman led them back through the empty reception room to another room featuring groupings of couches and chairs but it seemed smaller, more lived in and she seated herself on the sofa next to Marybeth. Carissa and Ann chose the love seat across from them. "Where," Carissa asked, leaning forward, "did you find him?" Her head turned to glance back at the door,

"James?"

The Patriot Captain nodded vigorously. "I was on his other side and I still thought I was going to melt."

"Sorry about that. We're not really used to being around other people and--"

"Honey," Marybeth's voice was dry but heavily laced with humor. "I think that was envy, not disapproval. Peter and I have been married twelve years and even I'm a little jealous. That man is sex on a stick."

Charlie felt herself blush but from the way the three other women were looking at her, that may have been right response. "So where," Ann asked, "did you two meet?"

"North Texas. I was headed back to Willoughby from the Plains Nation, out of food. Found this nice little town, looked friendly. I stopped for a bowl of stew and this guy was getting obnoxious, trying to buy me another drink."

The other women looked over at the door and Carissa nodded. "Subtlety didn't seem to be his strong suit."

Charlie tried to keep her face straight. James Kingston may not have been subtle but if they'd have ever met Bass Monroe. . . .

"It wasn't him. I turned the guy down and went to leave but a group of them blocked my way." She decided it was better not to mention the lock on the door. "I tried to fight my way out. Broke one of their arms and got a few others in the groin with a pool cue before I realized they'd drugged my food. Which meant they'd planned it all along. One of them went to grab me. They were mad I'd put up a fight. I was having trouble standing and my vision was starting to go blurry but all the sudden this guy who had been minding his own business stood up. I was starting to black out but I could hear the sound of a fight and the last thing I saw was this guy leaning over me and I had no idea what he was going to do." She paused, taking a deep breath and gave them all a chance to picture a scene before she continued. "When I woke up we were in the middle of nowhere in some camp and I couldn't even stand but he gave me water and food and talked to me until things started to clear."

She remembered the fear as her legs had crumbled under her, catching herself against the stove and the knowledge that as soon as she lost consciousness she was at their mercy and, due to their anger over her resistance, she couldn't expect much mercy.

She'd heard the door being kicked in and her first thought was that she had passed out already and been hallucinating but she quickly realized that, if she had been dreaming, she'd have pictured Miles. Then he'd been standing over her, not speaking, just looking down at her and every ounce of willpower she'd summoned to keep herself awake deserted her as her last thought was 'I'm safe.' Even at the time she'd known something was wrong when she thought she was safe with Monroe, but she also knew that he wasn't going to hurt her.

"So what happened?" Ann asked.

"I was headed back here without a destination in mind so we decided to travel together. We both understood we'd split up once we got here but then we got here and at first it was he'd stay the night, and then we just kept putting it off -- always saying he'd leave the next day. Then one morning I found him packing to leave and decided I really didn't want him to."

The other three women all sighed and Carissa shook her head. "Lucky you."

"Because," Rachel's voice was heavily laced with irony but lacked the whip-like ice that always felt like it was flaying Charlie raw, "every girl dreams of being rescued from gang rape and murder."

Ann and Carissa both looked guilty but Marybeth only smiled. "In all my years, Rachel, I've learned to take people where we find them. But I take it you don't care for the man?"

Rachel shrugged. "James? I don't dislike him. In fact, if he were living with any other family in the neighborhood I'd probably like him quite a bit. But what mother likes any man sleeping with her daughter? I reserve the right to dislike him. Mother's privilege."

"So," Marybeth's tone was teasing, "Charlie, What do you think of Stu?" It was impossible to tell from Marybeth's voice if she knew who "Stu" really was.

The breath caught in Charlie's throat and she smiled to cover the painful swelling that made it hurt to even speak. Memories of Miles, the bitter drunk who refused to help her; learning his reluctance to get involved was because of his militia past; Miles, striking Tom Neville bellowing, "I told you, never touch her!" The feel of his arms around her when she'd come back to Willoughby and a hundred nights around campfires, cleaning weapons or skinning game."

She finally swallowed enough to allow speech. "I reserve the right to dislike him if I choose. Right now, I'm not sure." It was an outright lie, she knew. Miles had been her center for two years, the one who showed her that it was possible to be broken and still go on. 

"So, Charlie," Ann asked, leaning forward. "What are you planning on doing now that you're back in Willoughby?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, your grandfather is the town doctor and your mother helps him out by acting as his nurse. Stu volunteers on the town defense squads. Your friend Aaron is a teacher. What about you?"

"I suppose I'll volunteer with Stu. And I know he's working something out with Director Truman to help with the Patriot food supply. James and I spent all afternoon gutting fish to smoke for you guys."

"That," Ann said, "may be good for a lot of people in the town. Contribute in the way they can. But you, have you ever thought of enlisting in the Patriots? You'd be a natural for our cadet program. Get your commission. Be a Soldier trying to bring the United States back together."

Even without knowing what Randall Flynn had done on Patriot orders, her stomach twisted at the thought. She smiled to cover up her confusion. "Thanks, but I don't thinks so. I'm not. . . ." She trailed off, trying to come up with something polite and finally settled on, "not really the person for that."

Both women looked disappointed and Carissa shook her head. "If we're going to put this country back together then its citizens are going to have to learn to sacrifice for it."

Charlie recognized her temper snapping but she smiled pleasantly, desperately trying to control the rush of reckless rage but it wouldn't stop. She felt every muscle in her body lock, abdominals trembling even as her hands steadied. "How old were you, during the blackout?"

"I was 16," Carissa said. "I remember how scared I was in the crossing to Cuba in the ships."

Ann nodded. "I was 11."

"I was six. Then my mother was taken from us when I was nine and until a year ago, I thought she was dead. I've spent all that time trying to build a life here. In the U. S. You want to talk sacrifice? What do you call losing my father to Militia. Watching my brother sacrifice himself to save an entire rebel base. People fighting for the United States. Do you know what it's like to see someone nearly cut in half by a helicopter gun?"

She took a deep breath, feeling her smile turn to a sneer. "Fighting? Do you mean like the Andovers? A war clan that was scattering? I spent a year fighting Monoe, nearly nonstop. With the rebels. With Georgia." She ran out of air.

"No," Ann said hastily, "It wouldn't be like that. You'd be a leader, not a foot soldier. It would be --"

"Be different? Are you going to make war nicer? Maybe stand further back so you don't have to feel them die in the muscles of your arm? Will it bring my brother back?" She was starting to verge on hysteria though her voice was getting quieter. She felt Rachel's hand on her shoulder and took a deep breath. "Look, I appreciate what you guys are trying to do here. But this last year. . .I've killed people. A lot of them. Some for good reason. Some. . .just because they got in my way. I'm not saying there is no place for war, because clearly there is. But I need. . .a little time. So I'll gut fish, or whatever Stu comes up with. But nothing more. Not now." She almost wanted to add "not ever" but locked her teeth over her tongue, just in time.

Both women looked like they didn't know whether to be sorry for her or scared of her and Ann gave her a tentative smile. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. I just got really excited when I met you because you're just the sort of person we look for. I'm in recruiting and I sometimes get carried away. I didn't mean to open old wounds."

Charlie turned her arm over, displaying the M branded on her forearm. "That's an old wound. It healed. Those are the easy kind."

Rachel's hands were on her shoulder, warm and comforting. Cynthia came over to sit next to Charlie, her face concerned. The teacher may not have known her long but Aaron's girlfriend had a warm heart and she'd accepted Charlie as a sort of honorary little sister to Aaron. 

"So," Marybeth said, "Are you also a Captain?"

"Lieutenant," Ann said. "Though I'm due for promotion in a few more months."

"How long does it take?" The two women began talking about officer recruiting but when Charlie looked up, Carissa was still starting at her.

"Sorry if I'm messing up your quota or something," Charlie said but Carissa shrugged.

"Hers maybe. Me, I think I gotten a lot out of it. But damned if I know what it all means yet."

"I don't understand?"

"She's recruiting. I'm intelligence."

Charlie felt her stomach start to tremble again and she was aware of Rachel's hand tightening convulsively on her shoulder before they relaxed again.

"That must be interesting," Rachel said.

"It really is. Particularly Willoughby. On the surface, everything here is absolutely ideal. But underneath, something isn't what it seems. And I don't know yet it that's a bad thing --like someone here is working against us. Or a good thing, like the people here are willing to stand with us." She glanced aside to make sure Marybeth and Ann weren't listening. "I thought at first it was bad and I wondered if Miles Matheson might be the problem." At Charlie's quiet gasp she waved a dismissive hand. "Of course I know who he is. Who do you think told Director Truman. But it's not him. He'd totally separated from the Monroe Republic years ago. Then I was curious about your friend James. But he really does seem to believe the things he's saying. I'm very good," she looked a little smug, "at knowing when people are lying to me."

That, Charlie realized, was the very problem with Monroe. He was a good enough liar to fool even the most astute observer. Which made her totally unsure where she stood with him herself. But oddly enough, she wasn't even sure Monroe had been lying when he had preached right to bear arms and the Monroe Republic failing because it didn't follow the Constitution.

"But something here is puzzling and I still don't know what it is."

Marybeth and Ann had broken off their conversation to listen and Marybeth laughed. "If you grew up in Washington DC, I don't wonder you think that way. Welcome to Texas. This is just the way we are."

The sound of male voices made Charlie glance at the door as the male half of the guests entered the drawing room. Peter and Aaron both hurried over to be next to Marybeth and Cynthia but Monroe lingered near the door, deep in conversation with Paul. Charlie wondered if it would seem to obvious is she got up and walked over to him that she was really just trying to get away from Carissa. Somehow Cynthia managed to get Aaron seated between herself and Charlie and his steadying presence helped but Charlie realized what she really wanted was to scream out her frustrations in Miles' chest. Or Bass, a treacherous part of her whispered. He'd get it too.

She realized Paul had led Monroe over to their circle as he said, "Hey, Ann. You should talk to James. He won't commit but he's interested in what we're doing."

Charlie couldn't see her own face but judging the way everyone around her froze, it must have been something stunning.

*It would be perfect. He joins the Patriots, destroys them from the inside. And it gets him out of the bedroom next to mine.*

But the cold dead sensation continued to grow until she sensed rather than felt Aaron moving and Bass sitting next to her, his hand warm against her hand and wrist. "It's something I'm willing to discuss on a philosophical level. But I'm not ready to sign anything. Particularly if it involves leaving Willoughby right now

His glance at her made it clear what he meant and to her horror, Charlie felt the frozen dread thaw a little. It made her want to curl up and scream because she didn't want General Sebastian Monroe to be another person she feared would leave her.

Paul's enthusiastic voice pitched into the stillness. "Oh, that's okay. Ann has her eye on Charlie too. Recruit you both and post you somewhere together."

"Not now, Paul." Ann's voice had an edge or warning to it but Paul clearly missed it. 

"No, really. Assign them to the same first posting would be easy and see how it works out. It would be tougher after that because one person would end having to transfer for the other and it could mess with promotions and things. Usually its just married couples who have to deal with that, but it can be done." She missed Ann's reply but Carissa rose, taking Paul's arm and leading him away, saying something about drinks. 

The conversation recovered around her, Aaron and Cynthia starting off with amusing stories about their students and Marybeth and Peter countering with some of the funniest cases in their dockets, before and after the blackout. Charlie even made an effort to laugh but she kept replaying Paul's words in her mind. "Usually its just married couples who have to deal with that, but it can be done."

*And how did you ever come to delude yourself he was doing any of this for you Or that you were ever anything but a link to Miles*

She'd never even thought about how Miles and Bass had enlisted together, deployed together; apparently, to hear them tell it, ALWAYS be assigned to the same unit. She wondered which one had sacrificed promotions for who.

How had she come to need him so much, even while still hating him.

As if to prove her point, she realized exactly when Miles was coming up behind them by the way Monroe's grip on her hand changed but by no other motion did he betray a change in his awareness. A tiny part of her eased. Miles wasn't leaving her and Monroe wasn't leaving Miles. So when had her fear or everyone leaving her been sated by Monroe's connection to Ben and Danny, Nora and Maggie, her mother and Miles, even if he was the cause of most of her phobias in the first place.

Or perhaps, she realized, it was because in unguarded moments she saw the same fear in Monroe's eyes that she felt herself. If Miles or Rachel ever felt it, they never showed it. If they were wounded, Miles and Rachel both shut down rather than lashing out. Miles would morph into an asshole: Rachel to a statue. But Monroe seemed to have her same instinct to grab anything that meant something and clutch at it, even when it was trying to run.

*And you wonder how he ended up an insane dictator* That made her wonder about her own future prospects.

"Hey, Charlie," Miles voice cut through her mental fog. "I was up really early and I'm ready to call it a night. If you want to stay can ask to borrow someone to bring the wagon back for you and James."

"We could walk," Monroe said but Rachel cut in.

"Not in those shoes. She'll get blisters."

The shoes Rachel had chosen were actually comfortable black leather with barely a heel but she was happy to have the excuse to need to be in the wagon.

"Oh, sorry. I guess not. Your choice, Charlie. I don't care either way." After a moment he gave her a bone melting gaze and murmured "much."

Her bones didn't melt. Even if every other female in their group other than Rachel seemed to have felt it. But she made herself match his look. "No, going home now is. . .good."

She exchanged quick hugs with Cynthia, got a hearfelt embrace from Aaron that -- while it lasted -- nearly made her feel whole again. Her farewells with Ann were polite, devoid of both animosity and sincerity both. Marybeth's farewell was coupled with an invitation to visit. They moved on to the Truman's who were standing near the door. Mrs Truman seemed friendly but she also had an abstract air, as if she were already thinking of something else. Her vague invitation to tea sometime soon -while sincere - was more an obligation rather than something to look forward to like Marybeths.

They weren't the only ones leaving, she realized, as they went to the porch to wait for their wagon. Most of the farmers with further to go and early mornings with animals were also taking their leave and Charlie was glad to be part of the general shuffle of departing guests.

She settled into the wagon, glad for the coat Rachel handed her and the steadying warmth of Monroe's arm around her. Gene was talking to Miles and Rachel and she let Monroe pull her against his side. What she wanted, she realized, was to to curl up in bed and indulge in good, healthy cry. But it the looks Miles and Monroe were exchanging meant anything, that wasn't a luxury she was going to get to indulge in for a while.


	6. Chapter 6

Monroe woke her with a kiss to the top of her head when they pulled up to Gene's barn and she nearly struck him out of reflex before she was fully awake. Since it was less than a 10 minute drive, she knew she hadn't slept nearly long enough but after everything that had happened that day, she knew she was in for an emotional backlash and those usually made her sleepy.

At a single warning look from Monroe she let him lift her out of the wagon and draw her in to kiss her gently on the lips. His hand drifted to her hims and he pulled her close to him before taking her hand and leading her behind Rachel into the house. The smell of the fish stock was strong but Charlie was surprised how good it was. Miles and Monroe lugged the kettle between then into the cold room and Miles headed off to check the smokehouse and Monroe went back out to help Gene with the horses.

Charlie's robe was still in the sewing room so she went it, replacing her grandmothers clothes on hangers then darting upstairs to her room to put on a soft cotton t-shirt that had once belonged to Rachel and a pair of sweat pants that belonged to Gene.

She wasn't surprised when she heard a knock at her door or a quiet, "Charlotte." Part of her didn't want to open it but there was something in his voice and the looks he'd given Miles earlier that made her realize something wasn't right.

When she opened the door he came in quickly, shutting it firmly behind him and suddenly his hands were everywhere on her body and his kiss was demanding. He seemed determined to penetrate her, even if just with his tongue. For a moment she was scared, wondering if their act had gone to his head but he angled his head so she could look into his eyes and they were empty of passion. Worried, she realized. A moment later she realized the whole thing had taken place in front of her open window and there was enough of a moon out they were probably easily visible from the trees near the house.

Under the pretense of nuzzling her neck he whispered, "got to move the ammo. Patriots sending search teams tomorrow."

Part of her went cold with fear but another part of her stirred with pleasure at the thought of a a good fight. She chewed on his ear in return, "Why are they waiting?"

"They didn't. Pretty sure they were here while we were at dinner but they couldn't ransack without complaints and Texas may be generous but it wouldn't do to stir them up too much."

"The ammo?" The skin on her neck was thoroughly tender, Charlie decided. And she wasn't sure she liked how it was affecting the rest of her body either.

"Pretty sure they didn't find it," he said into her hair as she moved her head away from him. "Miles and I moved it when you were taking your bath but we need to move it farther away."

"I'll get dressed," she said. Now that she wasn't thinking about her neck she realized how hard it was to concentrate with his hands kneading the curves of her hip.

"No need." Even in the dim light the bleakness of his expression startled her.

"What do you mean."

"The house is being watched. Miles spotted them on the way back. He needs a distraction."

She and Monroe, she realized, were that distraction. He stepped away from her, but pulled her hand to press the palm to his lips. "Lets take a walk," he said and she nearly jumped at the normal tone of his voice, sounding loud after all the soft whispers into each others ears.

He led her down the stairs and through the kitchen where Charlie saw Miles and Rachel, both dressed in black, gloved, smearing their faces with soot from the stove. Rachel's hair was hidden in a cap and she directed one unhappy look at them before she went back to helping Miles coating the skin on his neck.

Bass pulled her out the back door into the cool night air and she immediately felt the goose bumps raise. The Texas evening wasn't really cold but the house had been warm after the heat from fire under the fish stock. He was carrying a lumpy bundle and for a moment she wondered if he had the ammo but a closer glance revealed it was two blankets.

"Where are we going," she asked and he grinned.

"It's a surprise." 

He led her to a clearing by the woodpile near where they had sorted the ammo. It was out of sight of the back door but -- unlike where they had dug rounds out of fish guts, anyone could see them from the woods.

"Thanks for coming with me," he said, spreading out one of the blankets. "I really do like your family but sometimes I get tired of not having you to myself." He pulled her against him again and she realized he was aroused but she admitted to herself that her own body wasn't indifferent. *What was it he said earlier about only being human* They could use each other and understand intellectually that it meant nothing but their bodies were still responding. Which, she realized, might even be for the best if they had to pretend. She dug her fingers into his back, hard and he grunted against her tongue. She ran her fingers around his collar. He'd taken off the tie sometime before he'd come to her room and she moved her fingers under shirt to warm skin.

"How far are we taking this," she hissed against his neck and he moved his own lips to her ear.

"If you can stand it, make out with me for about half an hour. That should be more than enough time for them. Miles will let us know when they're done. The thought of Miles catching her and Bass together, even knowing it was for his benefit, still made her blush a little and she hid it against his chest.

It would be a good plan, she realized, but some practical part of her wondered, if they really were lovers, was that the sort of thing they would do. If there were Patriots out there -- and the crackle of her senses told her there were -- would they stay interested that long in glorified petting.

*How far will you go, to protect your family?* With a sick certainty that startled her, she realized, she had no limits.

She pulled her hands away from Monroe, grabbing her shirt and pulling it over her head in one motion. Judging from the way his eyes widened, that wasn't what he expected. His gaze riveted to her face like he was afraid to look down. "Charlotte, what are you doing?"

"I'm so tired," she said, her voice sounding loud into the dark even though she was speaking at normal volume, "of having to be quiet when you make love to me. It's why we came out here. Isn't it." She teased him with a smile, hoping it covered the sick dread she was feeling. 

He hid is face in her neck. "We don't have to do this."

"For my family," she breathed back. "I'd more than this." He started to pull away but she caught his arms. "Please."

The look he gave her said he didn't understand and she suddenly sympathized with his confusion. Short of losing Miles, Rachel, Gene or Aaron there wasn't anything more horrifying to her than actually having sex with Monroe and she had been realized that it was something she'd been worrying about since she'd first decided to ally with him after he'd saved her. It wasn't that she wanted it, she knew. But it had been looming like a red-hot knife moving towards an open wound -- horrible to imagine but maybe vital to survival. And much like the actual cauterization, the sight of the knife coming nearer was usually even worse than the mind-numbing pain when it was actually searing damaged flesh.

She was sick of dreading if it would happen, she realized. She just wanted it to happen so she could stop being afraid of it.

"Charlotte," he half groaned, half protested and she stepped back enough to step out of her sweats and kick them over next to her shirt.

For being supposedly stealthy, the Patriots, she reflected as she heard another branch crack, were shitty woodsmen. There had been just two of them when she'd been taking off her shirt but she was pretty sure there were four now.

Her smile went cocky. "What's wrong, James. Not up to it?" She let her fingers drift to his groin and she touched him though the fabric of his slacks.

The look in his eyes said he really didn't understand how he was suppose to respond so he didn't move, letting her play with him. "Charlotte," He put his head against hers again. "What are you doing? We don't --" He stopped as she forced her tongue into his mouth and he let her kiss him before taking over. 

She could feel his annoyance that she wasn't supplying him any cues if she was serious or not and she took pity on him, leaning forward to whisper, "Bass, please. I need you do do this for real." His eyes widened at the use of his name -- one of the few times she'd called him anything but Monroe -- and the look he gave her said he understood what she was asking but not why. By the stubborn set of his jaw, she knew she had to tell him, even if it was insulting. "I'm tired of worrying it will happen. I just want it done."

"We don't have to," he repeated and but she shook her head.

"Yes. We do."

He clearly wasn't happy but she could tell the moment when he gave up fighting her and let her start undoing the buttons on his shirt. He resisted when she went to pull it off him and she suddenly understood his need to keep his arms in the sleeves. When she got him out of pants, socks and shoes she stepped back to admire the pure aesthetic functional grace to his spare form. The shirt didn't conceal much of him, pushed back over his shoulders to show off his musculature. He helped lowed her down onto the blanket but when he went to spread the second one over them she grabbed it and balled it up as a pillow under her head. 

"We wouldn't really need to have sex, if we had that over us," he protested in a whisper.

"I want it done." she countered, pulling him on top of her and lacing her fingers through his, holding them away from her sides so he couldn't caress her.

She felt his erection against her entrance and he started to move himself into her but stopped and eyed her in concern. "Um, Charlotte," he hissed. "In case you haven't noticed, we have a problem here. If you don't relax, this is going to hurt you. A lot." He was referring, she realized, that her body and mind were finally both in agreement that this was not a good idea and she was about as ready for sex as after a lecture from Aaron on physics. He started to move his hands towards her but she gripped them.

"I want it to hurt," she relied softly and when he started to protest she shook her head slightly. "I want it to happen. But I want it to not feel good. Don't make me betray them by making me enjoy it."

The look he gave her told her he understood and while didn't like it and he entered her swiftly, forcing her open. The man, she realized, who'd burned off an entire section of his own flesh, understood about self-punishment. She was too tense, too dry and she gasped in shock, not even trying to stop the whimpers of pain. Let the damn voyeurs think she was vocal with pleasure.

Bass was larger than average and while that normally would have been a point in his favor -- Charlie briefly thought of Jeff-the-bartender who'd been even larger and she'd enjoyed their night together -- right now it just felt like sandpaper rubbing against delicate tissues. She might have made a mistake, she realized, in not giving him more chance at foreplay. It wasn't that she wanted to enjoy it, but she was doubting she could take half-hour of this.

But her body, as always, chose to betray her mind and she felt the burning start to ease ad her body took over. He was setting a gentle rhythm and she felt clenched muscles start to relax and dry scraping gave way to an easy slide. This, she realized, was alright, because Miles and her mother were both depending on her.

He had been moving for probably about ten minutes, clearly trying to take his time himself when he shifted and this time Charlie's gasp was not in pain or faked for effect but "not hurting" turned into something good and she felt her blood heat. He had been keeping his thrusts steady and the feeling intensified until it felt like her nerve endings all shattered around her and Charlie felt herself come up off the blanket, hands clutching at his back.

She could tell he wasn't expecting it because he gasped, "shit' into her neck and tried to pull out but he didn't make it in time. His next oath was stronger but muttered in her ear, for her only and she caught, "Damn it, woman. A little warning." She was still trembling and suddenly he was beside her, pulling her hips to align her backside against his groin so they were both on their sides;

"Damn it, Charlotte," he said, this time clearly not hearing who cared. "That was suppose to take longer."

She forced herself to grin, the implications of what she had just done and with who falling like pointed sticks to scrape at her but even as she tried to work up disgust, her body quivered, warm and sleepy. And, she realized. She had been right. The sick anticipation of the possibility was gone. 

She woke up to his hands kneading her chest muscles above her breasts. It felt marvelous, was probably needed and most likely to keep up a show. "How long was I out?" she asked.

"Five minutes maybe. Not long. But if you're going to get me naked, you're going to make it worth my time."

Which meant, she presumed, they still needed to provide a distraction and she quickly tallied. Five minutes before they'd started having sex, 10 minutes of sex, five minutes of cuddling. They needed to take up about ten more minutes. "You up for it," she said, keeping her voice teasing.

"Depends on how much I'm worth it and how much you're willing to help?"

The thought of him in her mouth made her a little queasy but she closed her eyes, trying to forget it was Bass Monroe with her. She liked sex. Clearly, she even liked sex with him.

He rolled onto his back and the moved her hand down to play with him. He was warm, relaxed and she caressed him, forcing herself to kiss him on the throat as he thew his head back. He was beginning to react to her hands and she sighed in relief she wouldn't have to suck him to arouse him enough for sex.

He lifted her over him, guiding her down on top of him. While he wasn't as hard as earlier, it was still enough to penetrate and he thrust up to position himself in her but let her pick the tempo. This time nothing hurt at all and she almost hated herself for how quickly her body accepted his.

His hands gripped her hims, pulling her tighter to him and she quickened the pace just a bit. Part of her wanted to just get it over with but she told herself that if they finished too soon it wouldn't help Miles or Rachel and part of her acknowledged she wanted it over because she enjoying it.

His fingers drifted to rub against her pubic bone and his head cocked in surprise "You shave?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"It was really common before the blackout. Not so much anymore."

"Field hygiene" she muttered and he gave an understanding nod. She'd never forget the only period she's had, walking to Philadelphia. As if the cramping and bloating hadn't been enough, the hair had gotten stuck to the padding and changing it had been painful but sometimes, just walking, something would pull and she'd find herself doubled over, trying to adjust.

It had been Nora that had first suggested shaving and Maggie who had donated one of her small stack of safety razors she'd kept in her medical bag. The first few times she'd shaved she'd itched nearly unbearably but by the end of a few days she no longer noticed it and even after the stress and exercise had stopped her cycle she'd kept shaving. She'd switched to a straight razor not long later and she'd tried to let it grow in but each time had itched too bad and she'd shaved again. She could tell he was laughing at her a little but she didn't care.

Her blood was just beginning to heat again when she heard the kitchen screen bang and Rachel call "Charlie?" It was enough to make her blood freeze.

She heard Miles asking "What's wrong" and Rachel's reply.

"Charlie and James went on a walk but they're not back yet." Charlie found her shirt about the time Monroe got his pants back on. "Do you think we should go look for them?"

"Leave her alone, Rachel," Miles said. "She's not a little girl anymore."

"I wish," Monroe said, fingers working the buttons on his shirt, "I could say "good for Stu' but the thought of your mother coming out here to make sure you're okay? Even I have limits. " He grinned at her. "I'll grab the blankets in the morning."

"Only if you promise to get back in the mood when we're behind a locked door." She made her voice challenging and he grinned.

"Deal." He kissed her deeply, like he really meant it and loved her and they walked back to the house. 

Rachel and Miles were still in the kitchen and Rachel said, "Hi, Sweetie," loud enough to be heard by any observers. "Have a good walk?" She was wearing the pale blue dress again and Miles was still in slacks but he'd switched to a t-shirt and all sign of soot was gone. 

Charlie decided they couldn't know what she'd really been doing but the instant Rachel closed the door, gossamer curtains obscuring details from the outside, Rachel's face went flat and she handed Charlie a glass half-full of some kind of cloudy brown liquid. "Drink it." Her voice was as expressionless as her face.

"What?"

"Drink it!" The strain leaked into her tone and Monroe took a step towards her like was about to protest but Rachel snapped, "No, this is not open for debate," and Charlie could hear her fury. "Charlie, drink it."

Monroe's face sagged, features twisting, hands clenching but he didn't move to stop Charlie as she swallowed the mixture. It tasted like pond scum and Charlie gagged at the texture and taste both. She choked after she'd drank most of it and Rachel gave her a tentative smile. "Good girl. Finish it." She sounded nervous but her eyes were bright with standing water and Charlie set the glass down after she drank the last of it and held her hand out for Rachel to take,

Miles gave her a look she couldn't read before turning to Monroe, jaw clenching. "I really ought to kill you for this right now, Just on principal. But the trust is, I counted twelve people guarding the place and your little porno managed to attract eight of them. We're in the clear."

"What did you see?" Charlie asked. 

Miles growled. "Too far to see detail. Close enough to know what was going on. What the hell happened?" he snapped at Bass.  
"Last word I got was you were going to take her outside and neck for a while. And don't give me heat of the moment bullshit because heat's a little hard to come by when you've got an audience and I'm pretty sure she's not an exhibitionist." His voice mellowed. "Come to think about it, I've never known you to be one either."

Rachel was still clutching left hand and she held out her other hand for Miles. He grabbed it and suddenly she was in his arms as he held her she felt all the helpless rage from the evening spill onto his shirt, even it it was metaphorical because she couldn't cry, even if she had wanted to.

She could see a little of Monroe's face through the curtain of her hair and he looked stricken. She felt Miles tense, body posture changing and she pulled away just before he could launch himself at Monroe. She shoved her hair back so they could all see her eyes were dry.

"How much do you love me, Miles?" she asked, uncomfortably aware her voice was icy. He looked confused so she asked, "Is there anything you wouldn't do for me?"

"No, nothing," he answered immediately. "Not if it would protect you."

"Well there's nothing I wouldn't do to protect you either. What happened out there was my idea."

"Why?" Rachel sounded confused. "Charlie, there were --"

"Other things we could do? Sure. But would it have kept them interested. And what about tomorrow, or the next time? How long til someone figures out we'd never really touched each other? How long did I have to dread it till it happened and I got to realize it really wasn't that bad."

"Enough," Miles snapped. "You want to talk about feelings, I will be there for you. But when it concerns your positive opinion about sex with my best friend, I am totally out of this conversation." Bass grinned when Miles used the words "best friend" but Miles glared at him. "And that applies about a million times for you." His hand squeezed Charlie's.

Rachel still had a dazed look and Charlie smiled at her. It felt broken but Rachel returned it "Yeah, it did feel like I was betraying Dad and Danny, the whole time. Even when it was good." Miles tensed but didn't let go of her hand, even if he looked like he wanted to put his fingers in his ears. "But they're dead, Mom. You and Miles. What do you think they'd do to you? And Grandpa? What would they do to him? I'd gladly betray all my dead to keep my living."

She turned to look at them both. "And here's the other thing. When we're in public, make all the comments about our relationship you want. It's expected. But when we're here, at least for a few weeks, I don't want to hear about it. Let me figure it out myself. Because this is my choice."

Rachel nodded and Miles grimaced but they didn't say anything as she stepped away from them and held her hand out to Monroe. He glanced at Miles and Rachel til they both nodded and set his hand in hers and let her lead him up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you are looking for more, this is the 46th page of my 86 handwritten pages so I still have a lot more too add. However, right now, it is 2am, I am cold and my fingers are cramping. Up next, Bass mocks the Patriots, Rachel grudgingly decides to forgive Bass and Charlie deals with cramps. For the more squeamish, you may get a little squicked out but lets face it, war and biology sometimes decide to cooperate with each other, especially when there's a lot of walking involved. But she's living in a house now and all bets are off. When I said I wanted to deal with domestic situations even I had no idea how personal I was going to get but to semi-misquote David Eddings, "whenever two (in this case 5) being set up housekeeping, there are bound to be adjustments." Oh, and there are more fish. . . but they only get a few sentence summary rather than an entire chapter because I think I've ran out of synonyms for fish guts and fish slime. Comments, of course, are always welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie woke at dawn to the sounds of voices at the front door and she tried to sit up but Monroe’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against him. “Shh,” he whispered. They’d fallen asleep on their sides, her back to his chest and he pulled his arm from under her shoulder.

When they gone up to his room the night before, she had planned to kiss him a few times next to the window and then sneak into her own room. She countered his suggestion that she should stay with him because they didn't know what time the Patriots would be arriving with the logic that staying in her grandfather’s house, she had every reason to go back to her own room.

But the kissing in front of the window had aroused them both and she’d practically torn the shirt off him. She had been furious when he’d laughed at her but he’d met her anger with teasing kisses and she’d finally understood that he wasn't mocking her.

Based on their two separate couplings, she had reasoned that he was a decent lover but – freed of prying eyes – he’d unleashed the startling intensity she’d taken for granted that he’d been keeping hidden. Even with booted feet coming up the stairs, she trembled as she remembered the rest of the night. He’d taken her at her word, she realized, when she’d told him she didn't want to enjoy it when they'd been outside. She’d heard girls in her village giggling about older men knowing things and Charlie finally realized what they had meant. 

She felt Bass smile against the back of her neck before he grabbed her shoulder, turning her onto her back and moved over top her as someone pounded on the bedroom door before opening it without waiting for an answer. The Patriot wore Lieutenant rank and he couldn't have been over twenty-two. He immediately blushed as Monroe sat up, pulling the sheet higher on Charlie – which also, she realized, hid his left arm. “What do you want?” 

“Um, sorry, Sir. Uh, we've been ordered to, um, search um. . . .”

“You've been ordered to search the room?” The young man nodded vigorously, his face solid scarlet.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Why?”

Charlie saw one of the older enlisted men behind the Lieutenant roll his eyes in what she could only guess was frustration but the man remained silent as the Lieutenant stammered, “Um, not sure, Sir. Um, doing them all. Third, uh, house this morning?”

“And we’re the first couple you've found in bed together?” Bass sounded surprised and amused at the same time. “Well, kid, if you’re going to be in this line f work, you’re going to have to get used to that. Can you give my friend and I a minute to get dressed?”

In response the Patriot slammed the door and Bass muttered “Amateurs,” as he crawled over Charlie and grabbed his pants off the floor. He tossed her the shirt and sweats and she pulled them on, grateful for clothing in the chill dawn air after the warmth of his embrace. She saw his shirt flung into the corner and grabbed it, handing it over. He slid his arms into the sleeves but left it unbuttoned. He strode over to the door and opened it, smiling. “Okay, kid. We’re ready.”

A squad of three entered and Charlie stepped past them into the hall as one of them gestured at her, murmuring, “Ma’am,” quietly. Rachel, Miles and Gene were already out and she saw her grandfather’s eyes widen at the sight of her coming out of Monroe’s bedroom but he sighed deeply.

Bass was still in the doorway and he smiled at the Patriot. “You a Lieutenant?” The barely-more-than boy nodded. Here was one, Charlie reflected, who had never been in a real fight. “Well, LT, thanks for the consideration. But let me give you some advice. Don’t do it again. Not everyone is as nice as we are. I’m guessing you’re doing his search for a reason and what if we were the ones who had whatever it is you’re looking for. That could have given us time to get rid of whatever it was, go out the window or grab weapons. Now that doesn't mean you have to be a dick, but you do need to be careful. You could have given us a couple of blankets without ever letting us out of your sight.” The boy looked mortified but Bass clapped him on the shoulder like a friendly mentor. “Its okay. Just be careful. If you guys are really here to do what you promise, I’d for something bad to happen.”

The Lieutenant was staring at Bass with obvious hero-worship. If he had been like this, Charlie realized, back when he’d first started the Monroe Republic, she could understand why people had followed him. The boy jerked to attention and Charlie turned to see Carissa coming up the stairs. Her hair was pulled back into a tight knot. She smiled, “So sorry to disturb you so early.” Her gaze went to Charlie and Monroe. “I heard you two had a late night?”

“You had someone watching the house?” Charlie asked, as if it were a new and horrifying idea.

“I have a lot of people watching a lot of houses. But from what I hear, yours was the one with the best show. Do yourselves a favor and keep It indoors.”

“Funny,” Bass drawled, “we tried that too. And someone walked in on us there too.” 

The Captain had the grace to look sheepish but then her eyes raked Bass’ bare torso and she raised an eyebrow. “Sorry about that. We’re searching every house in Willoughby this morning.”

“What for?” Miles asked and Carissa shook her head.

“Oddly enough, I am not totally sure. But as I told Charlie last night, something in this town is not what it seems.”

“Any chance,” Rachel said dryly, “that it might be people just don’t like being woken up at dawn to have their houses searched.”

“Oddly enough, no. You see I get the idea that there is something here that can aid our efforts. I just don’t know what it is yet. Besides, we’re prepared to compensate each household two pounds of beef per person for the inconvenience. Just to show we don’t take Willoughby’s cooperation for granted.” It wasn't gold or diamonds but 10 pounds of beef was a lot of meals. In a household where there wasn't a hunter, it would mean a great deal. 

Carissa walked down the hall and smiled at Charlie. “I’m sorry I didn't get a chance to say good-bye to you last night but I wanted to explain to Paul exactly why he needed to drop the subject. Ann and I didn't mean to upset you but between the three of us we were pretty thoughtless.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m probably a little over-sensitive on the subject. The funny thing is, back when we were fighting I’d have gotten furious if someone had implied I’d ever have trouble with it. I didn't start having feelings till the fighting ended and I had time to thinks about what I’d done.” Beside her, Bass reached out and took her hand, squeezing her fingers. While it looked like her boyfriend just being supportive, she suspected he actually understood exactly what she felt, though the utter irony of Sebastian Monroe trying to comfort her nearly made her laugh. “So, yeah, I’m a little broken right now.”

“All we ask if that if you change your mind. . . .”

“If I do, I’ll come look you up.”

“That’s all we ask. 

The search team finished and Carissa went into Monroe’s bedroom. Charlie glanced past him to see Carissa going though a small pile of things set in the middle of the floor. The Patriot Captain picked up a bound book, cover a dirty green that looked like it had been kicked down the stairs a few times. She brought it into the hallway and held it up in front of Bass. “This yours.”

Yes.”

“Care to explain it?”

“I had a friend. We met about eight years after the blackout and we watched each other’s backs. Then one night three years ago he tripped over a tree root, broke his ankle. He got it set but something got infected and there was nothing I could do to save him no matter what we tried. I meant to start a journal. Never got further than that entry – the day after he died. “

Charlie nearly went cross-eyed, trying to read what Carissa was holding up but the angle was wrong and all she could see was a line of ink.

“When was it?”

“Never did know what day it was. Sometimes between July 29th and August 3rd.”

Carissa handed over the book and went back into the bedroom. Bass face twisted and he handed it over to Charlie without her even asking.

The single line in the book was large black letters-blocky from having been traced over so many times till they were near half an inch thick.

HOW COULD HE LEAVE ME ALONE

There was no date but Charlie was pretty sure it was from the night Miles left.

Carissa went into Charlie’s room and when she came back out she was holding torn up postcards. Charlie sometimes wondered why she still carried them. Once she had been so desperate to see the world and they had been her outlet. But after Ben was shot she blamed herself for not being there when Militia rode into the village. She’d carried them with her to find Danny as a reminder but one day she’s ripped them apart, anger overwhelming. She’d never regretted it, but she’d kept them until the day she left Willoughby after the Tower.

“Memories. Bad ones.”

“So I guessed. Care to explain?”

“No.”

Carissa looked surprised and Miles glared at her from across the hall with a look that said, “we’re trying not to be suspicious here.”

“I wanted to see the world –all the places on those cards --and my Dad and I had a fight about it the day he died. If I had been there when the Militia came. . . .”

Carissa nodded and went back into her room. Charlie felt Monroe’s hand take hers and squeeze. Part of her was grateful and part of her wanted to bury her fist in his face. 

“If you’d have been there,” his voice was extraordinarily soft, “they’d have taken you too. For leverage.”

“I’d have been with Danny.” Her voice was bitter.

“Then who would have found Miles?”

Would they have gone to Philadelphia, Ben, Danny and Charlie? Would they have taken Ben, leaving her and Danny to wait forever for their father to never to come back? She clenched her jaw so hard her teeth ached but she didn't fight the pressure of his hand.

Carissa went into the other bedroom but didn't ask for explanations for Miles and Gene. She did come out of Rachel’s room with a leather covered book. “You seemed to keep this pretty regularly.. Now you've stopped.”

“Because I started feeling better.”

Charlie felt her eyes widen, remembering the theories and notes Rachel had poured into the book. She’d tried to read it a few times but for all the angst and anger about the Tower, Randall, Monroe, never once had she ever written regret about leaving Nora to die. As if he death of one woman had been wiped away by the deaths of so many others. It had been part of the reason Charlie had left Willoughby once they’d stopped being afraid Rachel was going to try to kill herself again.

They followed the Patriot Captain downstairs but the search team there didn't seem to have discovered anything worth pulling out. She held a low voiced exchange with one of guards and he handed her a bulky bundle. Charlie felt her heart slam painfully it was the ammo but as Carissa turned she was just holding the two blankets Monroe had left outside. Her smile was fixed as she turned and handed them to Monroe.

“Well, sorry for the inconvenience. Someone will be by in a few days with your compensation.” They left the house in a gaggle – the young Lieutenant stopping to shale Bass’ hand and Miles and Monroe exchanged disgusted glances Charlie didn't understand till the Patriots were out of sight.

“No rearguard, backs to us, sloppy,” Miles grumbled. “I might have gone a little far with the Militia but no one would have been able to take them by surprise during egress and I swear we could have killed all fifteen of them without breaking a sweat if we’d have done it on their way out the door.”

“I counted twelve,” Gene said.

“Nope,” Miles said. “There were fifteen. And they were doing a pretty good job too, until their buddies left and they just pulled up and slopped off their them.”

Gene’s face creased in a heavy a frown and he looked around carefully. “Sure that’s not what you’re meant to think.”

Miles looked impressed for a second, then looked over at Monroe. “Come on James, lets go grab firewood.”

Both men moved swiftly out the backdoor and Charlie’s breath caught because she didn't know if Miles was hiding a weapon but she was pretty sure Monroe hadn't managed to slip one into his clothes when he had gotten dressed.

She looked over at Rachel’s book and one eyebrow raised. “I’m surprised they didn't want that.”

Rachel didn't exactly smile but she handed the book over to Charlie. “Everyone in the town knows the doctor’s crazy daughter kept a journal. They would have noticed if it had been missing. I burned the other one the day the day the Patriots announced they had signed a treaty with Texas.”

Charlie flipped it open, skimming pages of Rachel describing her daily life. She flipped towards the beginning and though she recognized the same kind of babble they’d sorted through, trying to decode the meaning for signs of another suicide attempt, there was no mention of Randall or Rachel’s theories he was 

Gene looked over at Charlie and Rachel. “So I know the idea was to make people think he was here for you. But I didn't know that meant sharing his room. Unless that was all an act too.”

“I didn't sleep on the floor, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He sighed, looking over at Rachel, his . “Are you okay with this?” Charlie opened her mouth to protest but her grandfather ‘s focused gaze on Rachel stopped her. He wasn't questioning Charlie s actions, she realized but rather checking on Rachel. It had become a habit, Charlie decided.

“Not really. But she’s an adult. And I understand it.” 

He looked over at Charlie, signed, then shook his head. I probably want to know about this even less than I did about gutting fish.”

Charlie started to laugh before she could help it and Gene smiled grimly. Miles and Monroe came back in, each bearing a good-sized armful of firewood. They both looked at Charlie, still with a hand pressed against her side and Gene sighed. “Another bad gutting fish joke.”

Monroe grinned at the same Mile groaned and Rachel asked, “Is anyone ever going to explain to me why you all think this is funny?”

Monroe opened his mouth, snapped it shut again and said a very decisive, “No”

Her gaze flicked between them and finally Gene sighed. “I’ll tell you later. It’s really not that funny.”

“You could tell me now.” She was looking at Monroe.

“I prefer to live.”

“You’re sleeping with my daughter. Can this be worse?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Any Patriots still out there?”

Miles looked grateful. “No, we had a pretty good look around and it seems they really did all pull out.” He shot a dirty look at Bass as he snickered. “Can we pretend to be adults here?”

“No.”

Miles glared. “You know, I missed a lot about you when you went nuts. This part of your personality was NOT one of them.”

The glared at each but Miles face softened first. “You do know I’ll kill you if you hurt her.”

Bass stretched his hand out towards Charlie and she took it, feeling him rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb. Monroe looked between Miles, Rachel, Gene and Charlie. “Get in line, Pal.”

“There would be no line,” Rachel growled and suddenly Monroe straightened, his eyes going sharp and his smile feral.

“On that we agree. Because if I hurt your daughter I think she’s perfectly capable of making sure there isn't enough of me left for any of you to worry about.”

Charlie felt her breath catch in her throat. That was her favorite part of his personality. The fact that, when she was with him, she felt like his equal. If she could be totally sure he wasn't acting with her as much as he was with the Patriots, it would almost be enough to make her forgive him.

It was two days before the next food shipment arrived and the Patriots arrived with a wagon loaded with 4 steer carcass. Charlie started to grumble about this being a job for a proper butcher when a warning glance from Miles reminded her that Willoughby’s butcher had actually been a Patriot spy and Rachel had killed the man and buried him in the grave he’d dug for her. It also turned out Miles’ contact could fit a lot ammo in a steer’s stomach. This time Rachel and Miles helped gut the animals and her mother and Miles showed them the hollow tree in the woods about a quarter mile from Gene’s where they hid the ammo. The tree didn't look hollow. But Rachel had used it as a treasure-hideaway when she had been a child and – with a guilty look at Charlie – as a place to hide pot when she’d gotten older. There was a burl that was held on with a series spikes driven into the trunk that fitted into slots in the burl. They drove more spikes on the inside to hang rope so they could pull the ammo bundlse back out. 

A few days they got 30 live rabbits that they had to slaughter and butcher both. As disappointing as it was to not get any more ammo out of that delivery, every one of them had later agreed they were relieved that however Miles’ contact was getting ammo in the animals, it appeared he only did it after they were dead.

The next delivery was fish, then chickens -- their craws packed with ball shot – then fish again.

Regular sex it turned out, had a nasty habit of energizing Monroe and the man who’s lethal moods were legendary seemed to be in constant high spirits. He worked with Miles on exercising the hand Titus had broken and trained left-handed sword drills. He also took over cooking lunch and dinner and doing all the dishes, which Rachel seemed to regard with suspicion but seemed to cheer her up. His meals were simple but surprisingly good and he and Miles’ banter revealed that a young Sebastian Monroe had quite a talent for cooking that he clearly hadn't lost. Except for bread. After the fourth attempt hadn't improved at all, he agreed Rachel was probably best making it.

When they were around anyone but family he was attentive – just short of clingy – but he never condescended either in public or private . When they were alone he was surprisingly good at keeping his hands to himself --even if he didn't manage to do the same with his eyes – right up until bedtime. Charlie kept telling herself she didn't need to spend nights in his room but every night she kept going back. The sex was sweaty, athletic, satisfying, but she was pretty sure it was the fact he usually had her laughing until her sides ached that her going back every night. His impersonation of Tom Neville in bed should have driven her screaming from the room but she’d laughed so hard he’d ended up pretending to do mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate her. After they were done he’d wrap himself around her and hold her so tight she could barely move. It should have annoyed her. But the desire to hold onto something was something she understood and he didn't object to her clutching hands in the middle of the night and her jerking awake every half hour to listen for Danny’s breathing. It seemed wrong that his heartbeats had the power to sooth her back to sleep and more than once he held her while she sobbed about it, whispering apologies into her hair.

She wore the green dress when she and Rachel went to tea with Mrs. Truman two weeks after the dinner and Monroe whistled when he saw it. “Can I unwrap you later,” he whispered as she walked past him and she felt herself bush as she nodded. She clung to that thought as the afternoon dragged painfully. She chatted with Marybeth and Cynthia but was conscious of the fact that there were more officers wives than there had been at the dinner a week before. Mrs. Truman had been the first – but clearly not the last – of them to arrive in Willoughby and the news that they were bringing in families did not bode well for their likelihood of moving on. She knew Miles didn't care much about the territory but the arrival of families would also complicate the kinds of tactics they’d be able t o use.

Rachel got them out early by pleading a headache and Charlie had been grateful to escape. Talking to Mrs. Truman reminded her of talking to Julia Neville. The older woman had always been kind but there was something to her manner to make her realize just how young and uncivilized she really was. They had both breathed a sigh of relief when they’d sent the horses trotting down the lane towards home.

Miles and Bass were both absent, however, when they got there with a note they’d be out til late and Charlie decided she’d better change out the dress when Rachel went to change hers. She went into her room to slide undress and was struck with the fact the only things she kept in there anymore were things she didn't need on a daily basis. A quick look around revealed a scattering of his things that were also not used often. She hung the dress in the closet, pulled on her jeans and tank top and walked to the next door over. She was even starting , she realized, to think of it as their room. It had the advantage of being on a corner of the house and had her room between it and Rachel’s.

Rachel made them sandwiches for dinner and they both waited up Rachel reading, Charlie working on more arrows. The silence was comfortable, which was more than she’d ever thought possible with her mother.

It was nearly midnight when Miles and Monroe got home and they were both drunk, reeking of still-brewed gin. She almost got angry but something about their interactions seemed off.

Miles was usually a glum drunk, getting more and more morose with every drink but he was borderline manic, cracking bad jokes and old Resistance stories that hadn't been at all funny when they’d happened and were only funny now because the details had been altered so much Charlie barely recognized them. Oddly enough, they also seemed to be polite but not speaking much to each other and Rachel asked, “Is anything wrong. Did you two have a falling out?” She handed him a cup of coffee she’s started as soon as they’d staggered in the door.

“Nope.” Miles announced. “He’s a good enough guy. Dating my girlfriend’s daughter. Not sure what I think about that. “

Rachel put her hands on his shoulders and leaned in, “Miles, you’re home. I’m not your girlfriend and she’s your niece.”

He pulled back, looking confused and suddenly the happy mask slipped and he yawned. “Oh, sorry. Been running that line all night. They asked us out for drinks after the watch shift. Poison swill. Think they were trying to get us drunk. Hey, Bro, we’re home. We can drop the act.”

Monroe, stretched and yawned. “I know. I can actually hold my alcohol, dumbass.”

Miles sat up straighter, his voice evening out. “So can I, if I try. But I wasn't trying.”

Rachel made them sandwiches and more coffee and Monroe pulled Charlie onto his lap . His smile was gently, almost shy, as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Bullshit, you were getting. . .”

‘Don’t even say shitfaced. Cuz you already used shit once in that sentence. “

“So my grammar sucks. I actually was because I was thinking of hammered but given the state of your hand. . .”

“Well, I’d have laughed. Might have punched you.”

“With your left? You’d have missed.”

“Would have not.”

“Would have. Because Charlie’s sitting on my right side and you wouldn't want to risk hitting her so you’d compensate by going further left and if it was anything like you compensating when you bowl. . .

“I’ll throw a drunk gutterball at your face, douche.”

“You did that once. To Billy Jackson. Got us kicked out. But then. . .”

“Billy Jackson really deserved it. . . .”

“And you did hit him.”

“Not my fault. I actually thought I’d missed but he was drunker than I was and he flinched right at it.”

“Taught him not to call your sister a whore. Except. . .”

“I never had a sister. If he’d have just stuck with the ‘your mother’ line . . .”

“It would have made sense. “

She’d heard them finish each other’s sentences before and it hadn't bothered her but she suddenly realized it wasn't that they were just finishing them, they were starting them for the other one too.

“If he wanted to be original, you and Mark Curtis both had sisters and I never figured out . . . “

“If he didn't know you didn't have them . Maybe he was saying it to you. . .”

“Because I didn't have them. You know, I never thought of that. Maybe I should have. . .”

“Been nicer to him? Nah. You bought him beer afterwards. What more could he ask.” Monroe looked around at the kitchen. “I am going to miss this.”

“Miss what?” Charlie asked and she saw Rachel slop some of the coffee she was pouring and swear and she grabbed a rag.

“This. Family.” He pulled her closer.

“Why would you miss it?”

“Bass,” Miles’ tone was filled with warning. “I thought you weren't going to tell her till morning.”

“I wasn't. But it seems wrong to keep it from her.”

“Keep what from me?” She felt her stomach start to knot and he turned to face her. His gaze was more sober than she expected and that scared her more than anything.

“I’m going to join the Patriots.”

Rachel went nearly dead white and her hands started to shake as she sat the coffee pot back on the stove and it clanked loud in the sudden stillness. Charlie had no idea what her face looked like but she felt like Rachel’s trembling hands.

“Why would you do that,” Rachel asked.

Monroe’s arm tightened. “Don’t worry. I’m not suddenly converting. But even if we kill every Patriot here, they’ll send more. And they’re bringing their families too.”

“We know,” Charlie said. “We met some of them this afternoon.”

“I can’t fight this the same was as I did Atlanta. People died who shouldn't have. I don’t want to turn into the monster again. But I can use him. “ He looked at Miles. “Willoughby is a bad place to fight them. Too many ties here. How long before they figure out who’s behind it. But if I join them, I should be able to do pretty well. Get a decent rank pretty soon.”

He would, Charlie thought. Granted, this time he wouldn't be the one picking the ranks but it wouldn't take him long to gain rank.

“So Miles works with his rebel contacts and I work my way into something significant. And then all the sudden someone leaks that James Kingston is General Monroe and he’s been manipulating the Patriots since they arrived. The local support will completely evaporate and even their own troops will start deserting an organization that’s being remade into the Monroe Republic.”

“They’ll kill you,” Charlie gasped and Monroe smiled at her.

“You wanted that. Should still want it. Don’t let the last few weeks fool you. I’m still a monster who deserves to die for ruining the lives of. . .” he shook his head, then plunged on, “of the only family I have left.”

“There’s got to be another way,” Rachel said, her face unreadable.

“Plenty of them. But don’t you see, this is the best. I owe you. I actually owe it to you to let you shoot me right here but that doesn't solve the Patriot problem.”

Rachel’s face showed skepticism. “Since when have you had a death with, Bass?”

“Since the night my entire family was killed. You see what happens to me when I’m alone.” He squeezed Charlie’s hand. “Look, I know these last few weeks have been tough on you. And in trying not to blow my cover – which I appreciate, by the way – you may have tricked yourself into thinking I’m a good person. But we both know I’m not. And when I’m gone, you’ll realize how much I manipulated you. I can’t even say I’m sorry you’ll be sad when I’m dead but this will take a few years and by then – when you hear about it – it won’t mean much anymore. “

“And how do we know you won’t just turn back into what you were,” Rachel said,

“It’s a risk, But remember, Miles will always be able to tell people who I really am. “He moved her off his lap, gently, though he left their fingers intertwined. “I need to go pack. Miles can you come help me. There are some things I want to discuss with you.” He stood and turned Charlie to face him. His eyes were shimmering blue but he was already a thousand miles away from her. “Goodbye, Charlotte.” He leaned over to kiss on the cheek.

She wanted to scream, yell, do something, but she felt her smile twist, a nod at his words and then nothing. She didn't know what it was she wanted to say but nothing came.

She heard her mother exchanging words with Monroe but she couldn't make them out before he and Miles headed up the stairs.

She looked at Rachel. Rachel looked at her. Neither of them spoke or moved and for the first time, Charlie understood why

When she got upstairs, Miles and Monroe were both in his room and she went into hers. She noticed it had been stripped of his belongings and there were things of hers in a neat pile on the chair. The message couldn't have been more clear. He was done with her and was leaving.

It took her a few minutes to find her pajamas. She hadn't worn them in two weeks.

She could hear Miles and Monroe’s voices, still talking quietly, until she fell asleep.

When Charlie woke at dawn, there was an extra blanket tucked around her shoulders and Monroe’s ragged notebook was on her nightstand. She flipped it open and read the second entry - also undated.

Have to do this for her. It’s best for both of us because she won’t want me and I don’t think I want to hear her say it. But I know it’s true.

Both his and Miles’ rooms were empty.

For whatever reason, Rachel decided she wanted to make chicken pie for lunch and Charlie shelled peas, scrubbed carrots and peeled potatoes while Rachel kneaded a crust that had most of the butter they’d found in the pantry. Rachel didn't ask her about Monroe, for which Charlie was grateful. She didn't want to say the words out loud that she wanted him to stay. But she was sorry no one else had. Miles, she reflected, could have. After that crazy-stupid conversation they’d had, no one would have blamed him for wanting to keep Monroe around. Rachel had clearly told Gene, but Charlie gave him a look when he started to ask that had him pat her on the shoulder and say something about needing to scrub down the surgery.

It was just the three of them, when noon came, the smell of baking filling the whole house. Gravy oozed around the sides of the crust as Gene filled her bowl with generous spoonfuls. Charlie ate carefully, forcing herself to actually notice. Rachel and Gene were talking about one of the farmers who had a history of difficult births, who was due again in a few months. 

She heard the back door open and Miles’ familiar tread and she felt the breath catch in her throat when he walked into the kitchen, Monroe trailing behind him.

Monroe had a black eye, split lip and a purpling bruise to his right cheekbone. A second, quick glance showed that Miles also had some bruising on his face but he was also holding his left hand open, the knuckles split and swollen.

“Sorry, we’re late for lunch,” Miles said, his voice gravely and Monroe walked to the cupboard to pull out two plates. 

Rachel swiveled to face Monroe. “I thought you were leaving.”

“Change of plan.” 

Miles spoke at the same time Bass quietly said, “So did I.”

“His plan or yours?”

“Both.” Miles’ voice was tight with warning to drop it but Rachel – as usual – ignored it.

“I just have to ask. Because are we going to have to go through this again next week?”

“Rachel,” Miles snapped. “I know. You can give me the whole lecture. All day long. But he’s still my best friend and I really don’t want him to die.”

“What I mean,” Rachel said her voice slow and measured, “is are we going to get attached like to a stray dog you’ve dragged home, only to find out he’s leaving again?” She turned to Monroe. “As much as I may not like it, I am willing to accept that you are part of this family. But only if you are going t be here. Because I am not even going to try to put myself through trying to forgive you, if all you’re going to do is leave again.”

Bass’ voice was soft. “I could be here. But could you forgive me? After everything I did?

“Bass, I destroyed the world. Twice. Think you could even come close to killing as many people as I have?“

He smiled, slowly, and took his seat next to Miles. Gene was looking at him doubtfully but then he leaned over and grabbed both the empty plates and started to dish them.

He looked across the table at Charlie and forced a smile. “Can we talk? After lunch?”

She nodded, focusing on keeping her hands from shaking. If he was going to ask her opinion, she reflected, he might not like the fact that she really didn't know what it was yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I originally had planned to end this where Charlie wakes up and they're both gone. But I really hate cliffhangers myself and it's going to be a few days before I can get the next chapter up because I have to work this weekend so I'm going to be hand-writing new stuff but not typing up what I already have. So instead of waiting to see how he comes back (because of course he was going to) you get to wait to see his and Charlie's interactions over it. She's not quite ready to forgive him (getting close) and she is DEFINITELY not ready to admit she loves him. However, she's going to be able to go far enough to admit she needs him and he's now someone she fears will leave. Which he did. And she's going to have some issue that the only reason he came back was Miles. Oh, how I do love her abandonment issues. Most of this story wouldn't even begin to work if she didn't have them. I don't think the writers have actually had her say much about them since Maggie died but they show up from time to time in the plot - though she's tougher now, they still clearly affect her. Even if she was the one to walk out on Rachel.
> 
> I hope the dialog between Miles and Bass when they're sobering-up makes enough sense to sort-of track. I added that in at the last minute because I felt like I had been summarizing so much and I wanted to get some dialog in there.
> 
> I was also dubious about Rachel choosing to tell Bass she'd forgiven him, because I don't thinks she really has. But I think that in saying it, she's going to try to actually do it. Though she's got a long road ahead of her. Especially when Gene finally gets around to explain gutting fish to her.


	8. Chapter 8

He came to her room after lunch, where she’d retreated immediately after she’d finished eating.. She was sorting through the things he’d brought back and was putting them away when he appeared in her open doorway.

“Can I come in?”

She nodded and he signed. “You know, I don’t think I’ve head you speak since I walked back in the door with Miles. Have you?”

Unless yelling at him in her imagination counted. She almost replied but decided to shake her head instead. They’d all looked at her curiously throughout the remainder of the meal but had respected the wall she’d slammed up on all of them. He’d stayed to help Rachel clean up lunch and she’d fled before any of them decided talking would be good for her. 

One positive thing about was she understood Rachel a little better than she had the day before.

He took a seat at her desk by the window, turning the chair to face her. “I probably owe you an apology.”

She thought of just nodding, but decided that taking his observations just a little too far. Understanding Rachel didn't necessarily mean trying to be like her and if there was something Charlie had learned, it was really frustrating to argue with someone who refused to engage. “Yes,” her voice sounded rough from disuse. “You probably do.”

“I don’t really do personal interaction well these days. Not about what really matters.” He gestured at his face. “I mean, look at how Miles and I communicate. I told him I was going through with this and he hit me till I changed my mind.” She forced herself to grab the shirt off her bed and take it to the dresser by her door. She stood next to it, facing him. “I really thought this was best. For both of us. Miles disagreed.”

“So you’re staying because Miles wants you to?”

“I’m staying because I want to. But I thought leaving was better. And you never said otherwise.”

“You never gave me a chance to say anything. You announce you’re going and before I can even think it through you’re out the door with Miles to help you pack. You come in to leave my stuff when I’m asleep and then you’re gone before I even wake up. You never asked me anything and I decided not to disagree with you.” She hated that she sounded emotional.

“If I’d have given you the chance, would you have disagreed with me?”

“I don’t know what I would have thought, Bass.” She used his name on purpose because she so rarely did.

He looked a little surprised at her answer but he finally nodded. “I’ll be honest. I starting to get attached. I know this whole thing is just an act but sometimes it doesn't feel like one and if I was ever going to leave, I needed to do it now.” His voice dropped. “I always figured you or Miles or Rachel would kill me one day and I would deserve it. But while I still deserve it, I’m not sure I can deal with it being one of you. Not now. So if I did this – died in service of your war, it would help you feel you hadn't betrayed Ben or Danny.”

She still missed her dad and brother – always would. But the words she’d thrown at Miles drifted thought her mind. I would betray any of my dead to keep my living.

She forced herself to walk over to the desk chair and sat on the floor next to him. He hand reached out, as if scared, to touch her shoulder. “I love Miles,” she whispered. “And look at all he’s done. But no one asks if he has right to be here.”

“Your grandfather does.”

She glared at him. “One of my favorite things about you has always been that you never treated me like an idiot who needed someone to make her choices for her. Till yesterday. Next time you want to know what I think about you, try asking me.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, bringing her in closer to make contact with his hip. “So where does that leave us? Not the act for the Patriots. You and Me?”

“Well obviously if you’re sticking around we need to keep up the act. For the rest of. . . .I don’t know if I can ever love you. But I know I need you.” He grinned at her and she continued, “And though I know you’re here because of Miles –“

He leaned over and kissed her . “I wasn't leaving because I thought Miles wasn't happy. I was leaving because I thought it was better for you.” His hands twisted in her hair.

“So you’re telling me that he hasn't entered into your calculations at all.”

“Of course he has. But I didn't think you wanted me and he might be willing to be friends again. Can’t I want you both?”

The look she gave him must of have been interesting because he started to laugh. “Not like that, you goose. When I said Miles and I had shared women I never meant at the same time. Not to mention he’d have a problem with the incest.” She glared at him but all he did was lean over to kiss her on the nose before he stood up, grabbing her hands and pulling her up with him until he was hugging her with a solid embrace that had nothing to do with sex. 

He backed her towards the bed and tipped her onto it, ignoring her protest of “Door.” She put her hands on his chest and tried to move him away but he slanted his body until she was lying across the bed and then crawled over her and turned her back to him. “Bass. The door?”

“I,” he announced, burrowing his head in her shoulder, “didn't sleep last night. Not only am I too tired to care about the door, I’m too tired for you to need to care about the door either.”

She’d slept badly too. The echo of half-remembered dreams of everyone she’d ever known turning and walking away from her. But the cold ache was nothing that the feel of his arms couldn't warm away and she relaxed against him as his breathing started to shift. She glanced one last time at the open door. He’d be annoyed about it when he finally did wake up but she felt a corner of her mouth turn up. It might be fun to remind him whose idea it had been to leave it open.

When she woke the light had changed enough she was pretty sure is was mid-afternoon. She and Monroe had a blanket over them and the door was closed. He was still wrapped around her, face relaxed in sleep. He looked so defenseless she resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him. Part of her felt annoyed at herself for wanting him but asleep his face showed every one of the hurts he seemed to try to bottle up during the day. Rachel had compared him to a stray dog Miles had brought home and it was a surprisingly apt analogy.

She started to move away from him but he arms tightened in his sleep and she growled a little in frustration at herself for forgetting the basic way to egress his bed. She snuggled back against him and he practically purred in his sleep. As he relaxed, she got a knee and elbow against his, took a deep breath and shoved them both up. At the same time she launched herself out of bed and landed on her feet on the floor. He jerked, arms clutching, but she was already out of range. He half sat up, eyes slitting. “Come back,” he muttered and she couldn't help but smile – a little smug she’d made it out in only one try – how much he sounded like a grumpy child.

“In a minute.”

“Now,”

“I need to pee.”

He rolled over, eyes opening enough she figured he was actually really awake. He sometimes had no memory of trying to talk her back into bed and she was a little disturbed that the more asleep he was, the better he was at it . “Oh. Well, hurry up.” His face went back onto the pillow and she was pretty sure he was already back to sleep.”

The kitchen smelled of roasting meat and fresh baked bread and she walked into the kitchen to see Rachel browning a piece of meat in a frying pan. Four golden loaves of bread were cooling on the table.

Her mother turned and smiled at her. “Hey, Charlie. How are you?”

Charlie nodded. “Better. Now that I've slept.” The sleep had helped but it was the knowledge someone else wasn't leaving her. Yet admitting that to Rachel was too scary. “Thanks for the blanket.”

The comment was a guess but Rachel nodded. “Wasn't sure if you needed it, but I figured you could kick it off if you didn't.”

“No, it was nice. As warm as he is, you’d think it would be uncomfortable. But I end up with the rest of me feeling cold in comparison.” 

She paused at the kitchen door. “Do you need me to grab more wood on my way back?” 

“No. Thanks to those two and their fire-wood carrying cover for their scouting missions. We get more wood in here. . . .“

When she came back, considerably more comfortable, Rachel was just putting the roast into the oven. “Beef?”

“Venison. We've got three deer hung up but with all the stuff coming through from the Patriots and using the scraps from that, we've not been keeping up with your hunting. I was going to see if you could butcher one and give most of it Aaron and Cynthia.”

“I can do that tomorrow.”

“Miles said he thinks we’re getting more fish tomorrow.”

“Well Miles can gut them then. I might just butcher out the second deer and take it to town for trade. Is there anything else we need more of?”

“Oatmeal and butter. Sugar. We don’t exactly need it but cheese would be nice.”

“Doesn't Lila make cheese as well as soap? I may see if she has any. Do you need any help with dinner?”

“No. I’m just going to do salad to go with it. Oh, Cynthia did stop by earlier to tell me she was putting together a quilting party. Agnes Sheldon’s daughter is getting married and Cynthia was hoping to do at least four quilts for Nellie. She asked if we wanted to come, though she’s not sure on the date yet.”

Charlie shrugged, then nodded. “We’d probably better. People would notice if you weren't there and there’s bound to be a few of the Patriot officers wives there as well. Who knows what we may pick up.”

Rachel grimaced. “I was afraid you’d say that. I’m terrible at sewing.”

“Well I can’t say I enjoy it myself. But Dad always made me go them in Sylvania. Said it was doing my part in the community.” Her needle skills were mediocre at best but Maggie had taught her a feather-stitch that was popular for quilts.

“I haven’t quilted in years. Not since you were seven. I tried to make one. It did not turn out well.” 

Rachel never talked about her years as Bass’ prisoner. Charlie decided she didn't want to ask either. “I’m not patient enough to do one on my own. Ours were 2 or three of the largest pieces of fabric I could find, pieced together and tied, rather than quilted. But if we’re doing these for a wedding she’ll want to quilt them. But there’s always a need for someone to thread needles. I usually tried to get that job.” It felt uncomfortably like she was getting attached to Willoughby and the people in it. Going to teas and quiltings may have had a good reason but the social aspect was strange after two years of living on the move. “Has Miles said anything to you about how much longer we’re staying here?.”

“We were talking after lunch, actually. We have too many ties here that can be exploited for him to feel comfortable starting an armed resistance. He’s talking about finding someone to set up a sleeper cell in the area while we move on for him to start actually setting up a Rebel Camp.”

“Are you coming too?”

“After what they did? Absolutely. Besides, if he’s going you’re going. So I am too.”

Once they were clear of Willoughby and they were moving around, there wouldn't be the same need to create a cover for Bass. Charlie wondered if Rachel and Miles would be upset f she went on sleeping with him but the arrangement, she admitted to herself, was not one she wanted to give up, even if not having to pretend to love him would be a relief. It would be good, she decided, to shake the restless feeling Willoughby caused. 

Yet it had been nice to live in a house for a while, with a garden, a stocked larder and a bed. The routine and privacy wasn't something she’d had for several years and she wondered if it would be harder to give up this time, now she knew what to expect.

“You, me, Miles and Monroe,” she said. “We ought to start calling ourselves the Three Musketeer.”

“There are four of us.” Rachel mentioned and Charlie felt her eyebrows rise. Rachel was so rarely wrong on anything.

“Charles D’Artagnan was the fourth character and he didn't get to be a musketeer until the end. Aaron had us read it at school.” 

“I’m not sure I ever read it. So The three Matheson?” Rachel smiled. “That would make Bass D’Artagnan. Or you three are the fighters and I’m the scientist. So maybe it’s me.”

“The three Musketeers had been friends for years. D’Artagnan was a lot younger. So that could make it me.” Except, if she remembered the ending correctly, the first three musketeers eventually all retired and left D’Artangnan to have to become friends with his longest enemy because there was no one left for him. Not a parallel she wanted to explore, she decided. Her luck, her Rochefort would be Tom Neville. “Do you need help with anything? I did promise him I’d come back up.”

“Do you love him?” Rachel looked like she regretted asking the question and Charlie signed.

“I haven’t even given myself that option. I thought this was all a game he was playing for Miles’ sake. But I think I need him.” At the way Rachel’s face twisted grief she added, “I need you all. You and Miles and Grandpa and Aaron. And Monroe.”

Rachel sighed, smile turning wry. “I’d always hoped you’d be more like your dad. You seem to have picked up what my father calls my lousy taste in men.”

As long as Rachel had given her the opening, why not use it. “What is up between you and Miles?”

“Nothing.”

Charlie snorted. “Maybe nothing now. But I've heard enough to know that hasn't always been true, even if it is now.”

Rachel signed then took a seat at the table and Charlie took the chair next to her. “The truth is I was crazy about Miles from the moment I met him. I can’t even begin to count the number of bad choices I've made where he’s concerned. And I've regretted most of them.”

“But you still love him.”

“It’s complicated. He was right when he told me bad things happen when we’re together.”

“Is he my father?” 

As soon as the words were out, Charlie wished she could have called them back but Rachel shook her head. “Miles and I had an affair, yes. But he ended it nearly a year before you were born.”

“Dad would have still have been Dad. But I've wondered. Things people have said.” It was actually a relief, much as she loved Miles, to know he wasn't her father. She couldn't have loved him more, but they were comfortable in their roles of uncle and niece and she wasn't sure either of them could survive transitioning over to father/daughter.

“I would have left Ben for Miles, before the blackout. I'd did do it, after. Oh, I lied to everyone including myself that I was doing it for Ben, and you and Danny. So Monroe stopped looking for them. But the truth is, we could have changed our names; fled all the way to California. I even told myself that I could control him, mitigate all the damage. But all it got me was missing you and Danny growing up.”

It was Charlie admitted, a seductive “what if.” But she wondered who she would be willing to give up. Miles? Maggie? Aaron? Nora? Her grandfather?

She reached out and patted the hand Rachel had resting on the table. It felt awkward but Rachel gripped Charlie’s fingers and they both laughed, even if it sounded like they were fighting down tears. “I love you, Mom.” 

It felt even odder to say but Rachel leaned forward. "I love you too.” She stood, walking over to the oven and pulling the door open to loom at the roast. She put another piece of wood in the fire pan and rotated the roast. “If you’re not down for dinner do you want me to knock or make up a tray?”

“Go ahead and knock. He’s gotten out of cooking. No reason he should get out of dishes too.” 

Rachel laughed. “Tell him he can start cooking tomorrow.”

Bass was still asleep when Charlie walked into her room – his arms thrown sideways across her pillow like he had been reaching for her. When she sat down he immediately moved his head to rest on her leg. “I missed you,” he mumbled into her pillow.

“You were asleep.” She wasn't even sure he wasn't still.

“I I still missed you.” She ruffled his hair and he clutched her hand, then pressed his lips to her knuckles. She snorted, pulling her hand back. He growled in protest but stopped when she stripped quickly out of her clothes and crawled back under the blanket.

He gave her a sleepy grin before burying his face in her neck and she relaxed into the embrace, eyes drifting clothes in appreciation of the feel of him at her throat but after a few minutes she realized there was nothing more but puffs of breath. She was just beginning to wonder whether he had fallen asleep when he let out a soft, wheezy snore. She gave a snort, mixed amusement and annoyance and shoved at his shoulder to change the position of his neck. He woke up for that, smiling at he, but immediately went back to sleep again.

She laughed and swore, pushing at his chest. This time she was pretty sure he didn't wake but he lifted his arm enough for her to tuck herself against him. It wasn't the first time he’d sleep-cuddled with her and it usually meant he really was more tired than normal but it usually meant an extra-long bout of sex when he finally did wake up.

She was vaguely aware of hands kneading at her bare shoulders and she opened her eyes to find her room dark but a soft glow from moonlight seeping though gauze curtains. She was lying on her stomach and someone –no prizes for guessing who, she thought dryly – was straddling her back, massaging her shoulders. Judging by the warm, heavy, relaxed feeling, he’d been working on them for a while.

She turned to look over her shoulder and he leaned over to kiss her on the ear. “Good morning, Beautiful.”

She stretched as much as she could with him sitting on top of her. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, maybe. I’m not quite sure.”

She swore and twisted away and to her surprise he swung a leg off her so she could climb out of bed. “Mom was going to wake us for dinner.”

“She did. Well, she woke me. You told us both to bug off and pulled the pillow over your head.” She frowned, not remembering any of it and he grinned at her. “I swear. I finally went down without you. I even did the dishes like you told Rachel I would.” Her stomach rumbled, bladder tightened and tongue scratched at the inside of her dry mouth – all at the same time. He reached out to pat her abdomen. “Need food.”

“Among other things.” He handed her the t-shirt and sweats and strolled to the door with a cocky grace that made her wonder for a few moments if she couldn't just wait for morning but another tug from her bladder changed her mind.

They were just starting down stairs when Bass touched her arm and sprinted – barefoot – back into his room. He came out with a shirt and sword and the illusion they were just a normal couple faded as he slid his arms into the sleeves that covered his burn scar– though he let the buttons undone. It was a crime, she thought, to put him in clothing. But even if he let himself forget for a few moments, he was never careless for long.

They walked downstairs together in the moonlight but detoured into the kitchen to take a lantern, lighting it with a twig he caught on fire from the oven’s dying coals. They walked to the outhouse, not holding hands but shoulder brushing. He let her go first and handed her the sword when he went inside. They stopped at the pump to wash their hands with the cold water and piece o soap Gene kept in an ancient lidded container. She’d never paid much attention to it but she stared at the lid with what appeared to be a picture of toast partially visible in the picture. 

“Margarine Spread. Was Margarine a type of fruit?”

Bass laughed as he snapped the lid into place. “Hardly. It was fake butter, practically a plastic. Bad for you; tasted worse.”

“Then why did people eat us?”

“They started making it during the war, since oils were scarce.”

“The war or terrorism?” The only thing Charlie remembered about the war was the occasional flash of a news story before her parents could turn it off or someone explaining why Ben had been worried about his brother. From people talking about the world before the blackout, she’d never gotten the impression there had been any form of rationing.

“No. World War II. It was in the 1930 and 40s. It just stuck around.”

Sometimes talking to him made her feel so stupid, like he knew things she couldn't even comprehend. She understood why he would know about computers and cars, but not things like food from wars before either of their grandparents had even been born or who the Emperor of France was 500 years ago. 

Cynthia, Aaron and her mother made her feel the same way but with them she was able to remind herself that she could do things like hunt and track and fight far better than they could. But Monroe seemed able to combine survival skills and book learning as naturally as breathing. She pulled her arm away when he tried to take but he caught her hand, still damp from the pump, and kissed it.

“It’s not important,” he said, clearly not just meaning the margarine itself and she felt like snapping at him. Clearly, mind reading could be added to list of talents.

But the look on his face, a quick flash of calculation followed by a cheerful innocence, almost made her laugh. If he’d have said out loud, “Oops, I’d better feed her quick and take her to bed to get her to stop thinking about this,” he couldn't have been more obvious. She smiled a little. The mind reading, it appeared, could go both ways. Bass took his food as serious as his cuddling – or at least took feeding her seriously.

They let themselves in the back door, Charlie making sure to check the lock and she slabbed off chunks of the roast while Bass toasted bread on the remains of the coals and slathered them with cherry preserves. She had balked when he’d first started trying to feed her meat-and-jelly sandwiches but it hadn't taken her long to realize they were actually good.

She let him kiss the smears of jelly off her lips after they had eaten and laughed at him when he went back to the crock for another spoonful. His kiss tasted of sugar and tart wild cherries and he swung her into his arms as she squawked in protest but he kissed her again until she started to laugh.

“You don’t need to carry me up the stairs.”

“Need is such a relative terms. She signed, recognizing his mood and relaxed so she didn't overbalance them. He carried her to his room, paused long enough to lock the door and stood her on her feet next to the window before he went to lie on the bed.

Some nights he undressed her but he usually preferred to watch her do it herself and she often wondered if it was his way of reassuring himself their being together was her idea as well.

She stripped quickly and crawled onto the bed. “Hi,” she whispered, pillowing her head on his shoulder and feeling his arms come around her.”

“Hey,” he breathed back, leaning in to kiss her but she pulled away.

“You’re still wearing clothes?”

She lifted her side of the sheet and slid underneath. The Texas early summer nights didn't usually require blankets but she’d meant it when she told Rachel the temperature difference between the side against him and away from him was sometimes enough to wake her, even if both sides of her should have been warm enough. She’d mentioned it to Bass one day and he’d compared it to nights in Iraq, where an 80 degree night felt frigid after a 120 degree day and wearing his gloves because the 40 degree temperature drop was more than his body could compensate.

He joined her under the sheet as soon as he'd gotten his clothes off, mouth already nibbling at her neck and ears. She dug her hands into the muscles in his back and he growled in appreciation. He let her knead at his shoulders and back for a few minutes while he kissed her but then he rolled them over so he was on his back and she was over him. She moved her right hand between them, cupping him at an angle and sliding down onto him until his breathing went ragged. He tried to hold still and let her set the pace. His hands were moving constantly between her hair, shoulder, back, breasts and hips. Once he cupped her and pulled her down to kiss him, a deep solid, “glad we’re here” kiss that left them both breathless and laughing.

Sensation built slowly, making her feel like her body was falling apart and she collapsed against his chest, breathing ragged. He rolled them both over, re-entering her slowly, slow sure strokes that made her nerve endings spasm and she relaxed back into the bed, not even trying to keep her eyes open. He kissed her on the tip of her nose, lines around his eyes creasing with his grin. “No, you don’t. You have to stay awake for a few more minutes.” They’d both been surprised to learn how easily an orgasm could make her fall asleep – sometimes for just a few minutes. Sometimes for several hours. He had teased her about taking her own pleasure and then passing out. She’s countered that – unlike some people – she didn't need to talk afterwards.

She thrust her hips in counterpoint to his. From the abstract way his eyes kept going out of focus, she was pretty sure he wasn't going to be much longer. He thrust into her hard, muscles locking under strain, blue eyes bright before he abruptly squeezed them closed and dropped his head onto her shoulder; hips spasming. She relaxed, moving her own hips a few more times, just to hear him gasp.

She was never quite sure what she felt when he came; if it was heat or pressure or only imagination from reading books that she was suppose to feel something. Rachel kept her supplied with a mix of herbs that was suppose to help keep her from getting pregnant and she made herself drink it twice a day, even though she hadn't had a cycle in nearly two years. But Rachel had begged her to be careful and Charlie decided the bitter drink was worth the alternative.

She shuddered and for a moment wasn't sure if it was from the sensation of him sliding out of her or the thought of being pregnant with Sebastian Monroe’s child. Despite the fact that whatever they had working for now, she always thought one day she’d want to be free of him. But she thought back to how she’d felt so blank when she’d thought he was leaving and how he somehow managed to make her feel so loved, even if love wasn't the way she would describe their arrangement.

If they had a child, he’d never leave her. She jerked at the thought at the same time his arms came around her and he laughed, shifting onto his side and pulling her against him. Just when, she wondered, had him NOT leaving been something she wanted. And when had having a baby with him gotten to be something she’d even consider as an alternative. 

She shivered and he nuzzled her hair. “Cold?” She shook her head, even though her stomach felt frozen with dread.

 

The family schedule was scattered enough they’d made no attempt at a regular breakfast -- Bass had announced he’d was willing to clean up after everyone else but there was no way he was getting up before six every day as a regular habit.

She slipped out of bed sometime after dawn, avoiding his clutching arms and soothing his half-asleep complaints with assurances she’d be back soon. He always seemed like a little boy when he was waking up, cranky when he couldn't cuddle. It always amused her but she felt like crying herself because it had never made her picture images of them sitting next to a fire, holding a baby.

She wasn't sure if she was glad or sorry to find Rachel downstairs already, the kettle heating on the stove. They nodded at each other was Charlie went out the back door and when she came back in she held her damp hands near the heat from the cast iron stove.

Her mother, Charlie decided, was going to have a coronary. But, Charlie wondered, if she really was pregnant, as early as it had to be, Rachel might know of another combination of herbs to cause her to miscarry. The thought made her a little sick but she wasn't sure if it was from grief, relief or both.

“Hey, Mom.” She started off trying to sound confident but her voice cracked and even she heard the misery in it.

“Charlie?” Rachel came over to put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Rachel went death-still but she watched her mother take a deep breath and force herself to nod. It might not have been a “normal” reaction but she appreciated the effort to at least show something, even if it was just by force of will.

“Why do you think so.”

“Because last night I was thinking of what it would be like, how happy he’d be. How I’d never have to be afraid of him leaving again if I did. And this morning I started thinking about him and I, somewhere with just us and a child. And for a second, I didn't hate the idea. I actually wanted it. What’s wrong with me?” She almost gasped in shock when Rachel’s “barely there” look creased into a smile. “What?”

Rachel patted her on the shoulder. “You're still drinking the tea?”

“Twice a day.”

“Good. Its hormones. Usually brought on by the fact you’re at a point where you’d be most likely to conceive if you weren't doing something about it. It actually means most likely you’re NOT pregnant.” Her face twisted in sympathy. “Unfortunately, it also probably means you’re going to start having periods again. Sorry.”

“Great,” Charlie grumbled.

“Natures way of ensuring the species survives. When I was growing up I was sure I NEVER going to want kids.” Not reassuring, Charlie decided, since Rachel had clearly changed her mind. " It’s called a biological clock. Yours will probably be pretty bad since you've been off cycle for so long. I’ll have to see if your grandfather has anything that may help.”

“Thanks.”

Rachel made them both cups of mint tea and Charlie sipped hers slowly. “So you’re sure?”

“There’s no being sure. But it’s unlikely. At least it gives me a little time to get used to the idea of having his children as my grandchildren.”

“Mother!” Charlie snapped and Rachel laughed but her eyes were shiny with tears.

“Charlie, do you really think you’ll ever let him go. That he’d ever walk away from you.”

“He did. Yesterday.”

Rachel grimaced. “He tried. That lasted for what, twelve hours? And do you really think it was just Miles that brought him back? He was doing it for you.”

“I can’t believe we’re even talking about this.”

“I have to forgive him, Charlie. Because if I can’t forgive him then I can’t forgive myself either. And I have to accept he’s part of this family now. Because if we send him away again, maybe he dies in a brawl somewhere but more likely he turns back into that THING. But I can’t kill him because we need him to help us with the Patriots. And Miles needs him for more than just to kill Patriots. And now you do too.”

“I could make myself get over him.”

Rachel shook her head. “I let Nora die. And I nearly lost you because of it. I see what losing people does to you. It scares me, Charlie, because it’s the exact same thing that happens to Bass. And if he’s what it takes to keep you sane. To keep each other sane. . . .”

She’d had those same or similar dark thoughts but hearing Rachel say them out loud made the reality of it press in. “There are other men.”

“Jason Neville?” Rachel snorted. “As obvious as it was that he had a thing for you, it was more obvious that you didn't feel the same.”

She had liked Jason. He had saved her life several times but as hard as he’d tried to prove he would pick her over Tom, some part of her wondered if she were just his way of punishing his father. She had pushed him too far finally – not believing him when Jim Hudson had framed him for sabotage and murder. Even though he had watched Miles holding her back as the Tower door had closed between them, it had felt like the dying gasp of a relationship that had ended before it had even started. He’d kept bargaining for her, even in the Tower, but it had seemed habit rather than affection by that time.

She’d last seen him after they’d all gotten out of the Tower and he had chosen to go to Georgia with Tom, in the futile hope that Julia had left Atlanta. They had all known that Julia craved comfort like a cat and the chance of her having left the city were so small to be nearly pointless. But he’s decided to go try to find his mother, and she had chosen to stay with hers.

There had also been Jeff, the bartender in the Plains Nation. She might have even considered staying with him more than just the one night but he’d given her a location on Monroe and she’d left immediately afterwards.

Or Adam, with his buoyant personality and perfect teeth. She hadn't slept with him, though she had considered it. But Monroe had come back to show her the Patriot bounty on Rachel and she’d bailed without giving him a second thought after she’d learned he’d lied to her about his father being in danger. 

She decided she really wasn't in the mood to talk about one night stands or otherwise with her mother and even less willing to hear Rachel’s theories if she picked up on the fact Monroe was why they hadn't worked.

“Ultimately, Charlie, it’s your decision if you stay with him or not. “

“Thanks,” Charlie said, hearing the sarcasm but she softened it, reaching over for her mother’s empty mug. “I think we both need more tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. I had to work all weekend with limited computer access so I didn't get much typed or more stuff hand-written. The good thing was part of work had me driving for about 8 hours over the weekend and for only 2.5 hours of it was there was no one else in the car with me so I had plenty of time to talk through dialog and even come up with an idea on how this will end (because eventually I am going to have to wrap it up). It's going to be a while, but I was not quite sure where I was going with it and now I at least I have it in mind.
> 
> Since I have gotten absolutely no negative feedback on the idea (and a lot of positive feedback) I think we can expect Jeremy Baker, probably Chapter 12 or 13. Still not sure how the Neville's are going to be drawn back in but I will need them for the end and probably a while before that too. We're still a ways away from the end because the title is "A Good Resistance" and I have to deliver on that, even if the whole thing was a set-up for getting Charlie and Bass together. I think part of me already knew where it was headed, because I either accidentally or unconsciously set it up already without even needing to go back and add/revise (the problem with posting a chapter at a time without a clear direction). I could if I had to but I am pleased that - at least right now - I don't think I need to. I guess time will see if I am right or not. Remember, comments are always welcome.


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie went back to her own room after she finished her tea and put on an ancient pair Gene’s old hospital scrubs. They were sloppy-loose and amazingly comfortable with the added benefit they were easy to clean and that would be a bonus before the end of the day – particularly if they getting another load of fish.

She ate a slice of bread and jam on her way out to the cold-shed where Gene had blocks of ice packed in sawdust lining the floor. The three deer carcass had gutted and skinned but were still mostly-recognizable as deer. She took the largest of them and began chopping at it with the ax Gene saved for butchering. They had been saving papers and as the stack of steaks and chops increased, she would wrap them as neatly as possible and pack them into a box. She had three boxes before she had the deer boned out to her satisfaction. There was still enough left to merit it going back into the cold room but the majority was done and she stacked the boxes in the wagon.

Rachel was gone when she went to change back into normal clothes but Miles was sitting at the table when she came back downstairs.

“Can you help me harness the horses? I have some venison to take into town and wanted to get it done before it got much warmer.”

“Sure. Can we stop at Patriot headquarters? I have more fish due today.” He winced at the look she gave him. “Stop it, we need the ammo.”

“I know we need the ammo. But do we really need the fish to go with it?”

He grimaced. “I only wish. Besides, you should be feeling well rested after sleeping most of the day and all night.”

“Sleep?” She was rewarded by watching Miles wince.

“I already told you Charlie, when it comes to the details, find someone else.” She smiled and he relaxed. “Though, as to details. I hope you don’t me. . .interfering yesterday.”

“Why did you?”

“I already said, I don’t want him to die. Cuz' if he’s going to die I’m going to do it myself, for any one of the million things he and I have threatened to kill each other over during our lifetimes.”

“Was that the only reason?”

He looked at her for a very long time before saying, “No” in a voice that warned her she’d probably not like the answer and for once, she decided to listen to him.

“Mom says you’re looking at setting up a sleeper cell her and moving on. Know when yet?”

“I’m still kicking around ideas. I’m starting to get my pieces together but I still have some more intel I need to verify.”

“What can I do to help?”

He glanced at her, then smiled. “You’ll hate me for this but just keep going to all these socials and teas and let me know what the Patriot wives are saying.”

“Are you going to tell me the idea?”

He sighed. “You’ll hate me for this too, but no.” As she started to protest he glared at her. “Charlie, subtlety is not your area.” He held up a hand. “Please, Tom Neville made you in minutes when we were trying to rescue Danny. And I know, you’re not nearly that green anymore. But the fact remains that your intel gathering is a great asset right now and I don’t want to give that up.”

“I could do both,” she snapped and he smiled at her.

“You probably could. But I don’t want to take the chance right now on it. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Horses?”

He shoved his chair away from the table. “Go ahead and go change, I’ll harness them.”

 

She dropped him off at Patriot Headquarters and sent the wagon down the street where Cynthia and Aaron lived. Cynthia was in the front yard, fussing with a rosebush and she smiled at Charlie as she reined in the horses.

“Hi, Charlie. If you’re looking for Aaron he’s gone to tutor a student.”

“In the summer?” 

Cynthia grimaced. “They’re new to town and their son is twelve and never been to school before. His parents had tried to teach him themselves but he reads and writes about a second grade level so they asked if he could get help so he doesn't start so far behind.”

“Actually, I came to see you. I've gotten several deer lately – more than we can eat. I was going to trade some of it but I thought you and Aaron might like some too.” She climbed out of the wagon and grabbed the top box. It had some of the best cuts, including the backstrap.

“Thank you so much. Do you want me to take that?”

“I can carry it if you’ll open the door for me.” She’d packed the box as tightly as she could and it had to be more than forty pounds; mostly meat but she’d added a few joints for stock.”

The interior of Cynthia’s house was simply furnished but the few times Charlie had been inside she always thought it seemed restful. Cynthia led her inside and down a flight of steps that took them into a cellar. The air temperature dropped noticeably between the top and bottom. She had an old chest freezer in the corner that she opened and Charlie saw the blocks of ice – probably harvested during the winter at the same time Gene got his. Cynthia packed the meat into the freezer.

“Wow, thank you so much.” Cynthia said again and Charlie smiled at her.

“I’ll have another one I need to do soon so I’ll have some more then too.”

“You don’t have to –“ She stopped as Charlie shook her head.

“Aaron has been my family, for a really long time. I've never seen him happier than he is now.”

She was surprised to see Cynthia’s eyes fill with tears. “You know what happened to him, don’t you?”

“That he died? Mom told me.” They still weren't sure why the nanites had brought him back to life or if he’d even really been dead in that time but Aaron had been without a heartbeat for nearly 2.5 hours before he’d woken up again.

“He says it’s all because of this place in Colorado where he tried to turn the power back on and something that Rachel invented and the government stole or bought or used wrong and code he wrote and little machines inside of us. And that’s the reason Atlanta and Philadelphia got bombed.” Charlie heard the desperation in Cynthia’s voice.

“You haven’t told anyone about it have you?”

Cynthia shook her head. “The whole town knew he died and came back to life. I wanted to tell Pastor Gates about the machines but Aaron said it was important not to talk about it with anyone but Stu or your Mom. That was before you came back. I've tried so hard, to not say anything. But I’m so scared, because I don’t understand it.”

Charlie patted her on the shoulder. The gesture seemed awkward but Cynthia smiled at her. “I don’t understand it all myself, and I was even there when everything happened in Colorado. But Aaron’s right. You can’t say anything about it. Not to anyone else. Or else Aaron could be in danger.”

“I don’t understand why he tells me someone named Randall Flynn dropped the bombs but the Patriots tell us that it was Foster and Monroe.”

“It wasn't Foster and Monroe,” Charlie said. “But if the Patriots knew we could tell people they did it instead, they’d kill us all. Aaron as much as the rest of us. And we can’t trust ANYONE, even here in Willoughby. Even people you've known for years.”

She didn't mean to be quite so forceful but something flashed across Cynthia’s face. “They tell us Ken went outside the wall and the Andovers must have gotten him. But Ken didn't go outside, did he?”

How much did she trust Cynthia, Charlie wondered. Her mother had trusted her childhood friend and it had nearly cost Rachel her life. Cynthia smiled, stepping away. “I really don’t want to know, do I?”

“No. But please, promise me if you need to talk you’ll talk to one of us.”

“Promise.” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes. “I feel better just getting to say it. Thank you again for the venison. Can I get you anything to drink? Are you hungry?”

“I’m good, thanks. I have to get back to meet Stu. He’s at the Patriot Headquarters.” She followed Cynthia back up the stairs.

Cynthia turned her head, her expression confused but she shook her head. “Well then, will we see you at the quilting a week from Saturday?”

“Yes. Mom and I will both be there. Though Mom said she should probably just thread everyone’s needles for them. “

“She and Carissa Bailey can both do that. Carissa’s coming too but she says she’s really bad at sewing.” Another piece of intel, Charlie realized. Apparently the Patriot Captain was also taking her community involvement seriously. “Do you think Stu and James would mind if Aaron spent the day with them. I can’t imagine he’s going to want to stay here in a house with twenty women and a bunch of quilts. Oh, do you have time to see the tops?”

“Sure.” Cynthia led her into the sewing room. Three of the quilts tops were sewn together. One was a wild goose pattern, the colors vivid blues and purples and soft creams, every one matching. It was the sort of quilt people did before the blackout when fabric and time were plentiful.

“Betsy-Ann Robinson made this one. She’s got a bad back and knees so she can’t do much outside but she has a sewing machine. Obviously it doesn't run but she can still turn the wheel and get a basic stitch out of it. We tried quilting with it once, but it’s too small and the needle doesn't go though the top, back and batting.” Charlie touched the smooth fabric. Even in the dim light the quilt top looked like a work of art. It would most likely either go on the newly married couple’s bed or a spare room.

Two other tops were the more familiar patchwork, neatly done but made of extras from other projects. The fourth was larger square blocks, not sewn together yet; pink, green, blue and yellow silks. “This will be pretty. Where did you get the silks?”

Cynthia smiled. “It’s actually polyester. They were curtains, before the blackout. But after central air no longer worked, I needed something heavier and they’d been at the bottom of a chest for most that time. Betsy-Ann said she’d sew them together for me so they’ll be ready by next Saturday. I actually think there’s enough to do two. Would you like one?”

Charlie felt her breath catch as she glanced at the quilts. She had all the appearances of the life her father had wanted for her: A community, family, settled down with a nice guy. She saw the look Cynthia was giving her, speculating if she’d need to set up another quilting party in case Charlie was thinking of getting married herself but suddenly Cynthia’s face went blank. “James. Is he. . . .”

The impulse to pour out the whole story was almost overwhelming but Charlie forced herself to smile. “He’s a good man. But one day he’ll move on and so will I. We’re both better for our time together. But I really don’t see a future in it.” She couldn't help but see the flash of pain across Cynthia’s face and she realized she had probably vocalized Cynthia’s fear about Aaron.

What would Aaron do, she suddenly wondered, when they left Willoughby? Part of her had always imagined he would stay in Willoughby, his role in her journey complete. Part of her had also expected he would come along, like he always had before. She hadn't even thought about how much danger they would be putting him in when they disappeared or would it be safer for him to stay rather than dragging him back into a war he wasn't prepared to fight. And what about Cynthia? Her own friendships could put her in danger as well if she stayed but was she any more ready than Aaron to go on the run and set up a resistance against the people who called themselves the U.S. Government.

She thought back to Miles, in the square of his home town, watching General Monroe hold a gun to Emma’s head. Had he felt the same, she wondered, knowing that he put people at risk just by existing.

Except, and she felt angry with herself for never seeing it before, Miles had known that Bass and Emma had a son together. He would have had to have known that Emma was telling Bass about the boy. So it hadn’t, she realized, been about someone meaning so much to Miles that he was willing to save them even more than he wanted to kill Monroe. It had been about trying to see if knowing he had a son had been enough to save Bass. 

She remembered the way Miles had crouched behind the pillar, threatening all of them if they hit her. She had been so afraid that Miles would stand up to save Emma’s life she had been about to break cover and fire herself. At the time she had been grateful to Captain Dixon but now she wondered what would have happened. Part of her had always shied away from the memory of that night because she had seen, even at the time, that Monroe was no longer holding a gun to Emma’s head when Dixon had fired; that Monroe had said he would kill Emma if Miles hadn't come out on the count of five but he’d stopped counting after two; that his men had literally dragged him screaming away from her body.

“Charlie, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes, hardly even aware she’d closed them. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She didn't know if she should feel angry at Miles or surprised at her own reaction. After all this time, she should be used to the small reminders how much they had meant to each other, even while they had been fighting.

“You don’t look okay.”

“I could use a glass of water.” She didn't actually want water but as Cynthia hurried into the kitchen, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. There was a mirror hanging nearby and she checked her face, forcing a smile. It looked terrible so she settled on blankness. It didn't look blank, but it looked better.

She forced herself to drink the water Cynthia brought her and it she did feel a little better. “Do you want to sit down for a bit?”

“No, thanks. I need to go pick Miles up. He’s probably wondering where I am.” She handed the glass back. “That was what I needed.”

For a moment she thought Cynthia was going to at least pretend to believe her but the woman held up her arm and Charlie saw a long scar carved deep into her forearm. “I recognize bad memories when I see them.” She lowered her arm, her smile strained. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about them. But. . .if you ever want to. . .I’m here.”

Cynthia couldn't have been more different from Nora but there was something about her that made Charlie wonder if it wouldn't be nice to have her as a friend, even if she couldn't tell her the truth about everything like she could Nora. She wondered what Nora would have thought of her and Bass. But then, Nora’s sister had seemed surprised Nora was back with Miles so perhaps she would have understood.

“Thanks. And I mean that. Maybe one day. . .if I ever can.” Cynthia nodded. “And I really do need to go get Stu.”

Cynthia sighed. “You know, you mostly all do really well. But Rachel has slipped before and called him Miles too.”

“What.” Charlie felt her adrenaline race.

“Stu. You called him Stu just now, but a minute ago, you called him Miles.” Cynthia held her hands out, placating. “Rachel did the same thing, the day Aaron tried to leave; the day before you came back. I went to see if she knew where he was and she said she couldn't find Miles either.”

It was a good thing, Charlie reflected, that the Patriots already knew who he was. She could only hope that they never did the same thing with Monroe when they were stressed. “Habit. Most people don’t react well to knowing they have Miles Matheson living in the same town with them.”

“Well he’s a friend of Aaron’s so that’s enough for me. Everyone pretty much already figured it out anyway. Well, thank you again for the venison.” The air outside had grown warmer in just the time they’d been inside. They exchange hesitant hugs before Charlie climbed back onto the wagon seat. 

The horses moved off at her command and she headed back into Willoughby. Miles was waiting for her in front of Patriot Headquarters but there was no box of fish with him. “You get a reprieve,” he called. “Catch didn't come in. Fish won’t be here till next week.”

“Can’t say that breaks my heart.” She stopped the horses and he climbed up next to her and held out his hands for the reins. “What, I can’t drive?”

He flashed her a smile. “Call it a guy thing. “ He glanced at the other two boxes in the back. “Where to now?”

She handed over the leather lines, remembering how Monroe had also rarely let her drive on the trip to Willoughby. “Must be. Grocers, please.”

With Ken gone, the grocer had taken over selling meat and they pulled up to the back of the shop where two of the clerks were sitting on the loading dock, their feet dangling as they exchanged puffs on a cigarette. They couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 and they both leered at her before they saw Stu and one of them jumped up grabbing a broom and pretending to sweep. The other ducked back inside and Emily Easton came out, looking like she wasn't fooled by the clerk’s busy motions. Emily and her husband Kyle ran the store together and they were both Rachel’s age. 

“Hi, Charlie,” Emily called. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you use some venison?”

“When was it killed?”

“Four days ago. But it’s been in Gene’s meat-shed since it was gutted.”

“Sure, I’ll take a look. Meat sales were a bit down with the Patriots and their search compensation but it’s starting to pick up again as people are running out of the beef.” The search had been over two weeks ago but the distribution of the meat had been delayed by a few days. Miles and the clerk between them got the boxes on the loading dock and Emily opened a few packages. “What’s the weights?”

“Most of Gene’s scales are made for medication so I don’t know for sure. That box is chops, that one is steaks.”

“Backstrap?”

“Sorry, not this one.”

“Well next deer bring me some backstrap and I’ll buy some for myself. Joe, take this inside and you and Kevin weight it. Can I take it all?”

“Most of it. I wanted to keep a few pounds to see if Lila had any cheese I could trade for.”

Emily grinned. “Well I can spare you the trouble. She sold me everything she had day before yesterday.”

“Looks like you get it all.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Miles called. “I’ll meet you around front. I’m going to go get these guys some water.” He waved at the team and she nodded at him. She followed Emily into the back room which was stuffed with wooden crates and barrels. 

They crossed into the main room of the grocers where the meat case was empty but pieces of paper hung on the glass. “Takes too much ice,” Emily complained, “to keep it cool in this weather. So I just keep it in the old walk-in freezer that does keep the ice from melting.”

One of the clerks – the one that had fled back into the store – appeared in the doorway. “Twenty-seven-and-a-quarter pounds of steaks. Thirty-eight-and-a-half pounds of chops.”

“Thank you, Kevin. Go put it away.” She turned back to Charlie. “That’s sixty-five and three-quarter pounds. I can give you ninety dollars in cash or one-ten if you’ll take it in trade.

While cash was a valueless concept, it was also an understandable one to use as a price, even if you got back diamonds or gold instead of stacks of paper.

“Let’s go with the trade. Starting with the cheese. Ten pounds of oatmeal and what do you have for butter?”

“Three pounds.”

“I’ll take it.”

Emily pulled out rounds of cheese, pale cream wax sealing them. There were five of them and Charlie selected the two largest. “Anything else?”

She tried to remember if Rachel had said sugar or not but wasn't sure. “Five pounds of sugar. And do you have any kerosene?”

“Kerosene, yes. Four one-gallon cans. Sugar, no. Cynthia cleaned me out of it yesterday and I don’t expect more until next week. I just got fifty pounds but the Patriots bough 30 of it, Jennings took 10 and Cynthia was in here at the same time and bought the rest because she wanted to make sure she had enough to make some cakes for her quilting party.”

“Well I’ll take a gallon of kerosene at least. “ The clerks been piling up the items on the counter while she and Emily had been talking. 

“That would have been $28.” Emily pulled a metal box from behind the counter and removed a card. Charlie could see Gene’s name printed heavily on it and Emily wrote VENISON -65.75LB + $110  
Underneath that she scripted 4 LB CHEESE-$10; 10LB OATMEAL-$5; 3LB BUTTER -$6; 1G KEROSINE-$7  
Apparently Gene already had a 32 dollar credit because Emily wrote $32 + $110 -$28 = +124

“Sounds good to me. If I take another deer do you want it too?” She decided not to mention she already had some.

“Depends on how well this sells. Probably. These Patriots are spending diamonds freely and people are buying more rather than going out because of the Andover threat.”

The clerks helped her carry the bundles back out to the wagon and Miles packed them in. “Anywhere else?”

“No. Let’s get home.” The temperature had crept up a little more and she was glad she wouldn't have to sit in the heat, gutting fish.

She was sweating by the time they got back to Gene’s and she passed the packages to Rachel and went to help Miles unharness. The horses had their tails swishing nearly constantly and the area around the harness was damp, even though they had gone no faster than a walk. They drank deeply at the water trough near the barn and she and Miles walked them together to their small pasture. It had two oak trees and the horses immediately headed for their shade. Miles checked the water trough and nodded when he found it full.

“Any idea what delayed the fish?”

“Sounds like the fisherman had an issue with the boats but I didn't want to ask too many questions. My nightmare is that my contact gets us a catch filled with ammo and someone diverts it to a different Garrison. I don’t think there are any others here in Texas but if Carver got in bed with them once, I keep wondering if he’ll d it again. You get anything?”

“Captain Bailey’s coming to the quilting Cynthia’s having.”

He grunted and leaned against the fence and she wondered if he understood what it meant but then signed. “This could be a problem. The last thing we need is people in this town actually liking them and thinking of them as part of the community. I’ll give her this, she’s clever. Not sure if it’s her or Truman responsible for all the wives showing up.”

“So how soon are we thinking of moving on?”

“Getting restless? Or trying to prepare yourself for it?”

“A little of both,” she admitted. “Miles?”

He turned to look at her. “What is it?”

“That night, when Monroe had Emma at gunpoint. . .did you know what she was telling him? About his son?”

He exhaled, dropping his head to the fence rails. “Yeah. I knew it had to be something like that. I was hoping. . .it would change him. If we had just killed him, we’d have people fighting over the scraps, like Tom Neville or Mark Franklin and no telling what they would have done. With Bass, if she had lived, it might have been that push he needed. He’s told me that was when he realized how wrong everything was. So I guess it was. It just took longer.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me that?”

“Tell you that we couldn't kill Monroe? You wouldn't have listened. Besides, if you remember, I went there by myself.”

She remembered Dixon beating the courier until he had yielded up the message that Miles was suppose to go turn himself in, alone, to Monroe. “Wasn't that because he was going to kill everyone if you didn't come alone?”

“Charlie, I was supposed to go alone and turn myself in. If I wasn't going to turn myself in, why the hell would I have gone alone if I was just planning on killing him. It was because none of you would ever have gone for a plan to keep Bass alive long enough to find out he had a son. “

“But you were glad to see us, when we arrived.” He glared at her and she could sense his exasperation.

“I was pinned down by Militia gunfire at the time. I’d have been glad to see anyone. Right up to till when Dixon shot Emma. And that was when she was telling him. I could tell just by the look on his face.”

“But then why were you were so angry with him afterwards?”

“That he’d gone so far in the first place. And that we had been so close. . .you have no idea how close. . .to having the war over then and there. Another hour with her and I could have offered to have gone out and taken him to his son and he’d have walked away from the whole damn Republic just for that.”

“You couldn't still have done it, even after she was dead?”

“It wouldn't have worked without her. He was still completely off the map and I doubt his son would have been pleased to see him right after he was responsible for Emma’s death. And that would have sent him totally over the edge. Bass,” he sighed, “needs someone to act as his moral compass. It was me for a long time but that didn't end well. Because mine is questionable at best. How do you think we ended up with the Republic in the first place. We even started it trying to help people.”

“And now? Are you saying his constitutional rights ideals are a sham?”

Miles actually laughed. “Nope. But give him five years on his own and he’d be executing entire families because Militia search teams would find a household without a firearm in it. Trust me, something like that would happen.”

“So you’re saying I have no choice but to stay with him.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. But do me a favor and let me know when you’re planning on walking away enough in advance that I can be prepared. Though now you know why I was so upset when you had sex with him. It wasn't just because you were my niece. He’s so desperate to bond with anyone and you – my niece – how can I ever find someone for him that will top that?”

“So what was wrong with his ‘join-the-Patriots’ scheme?”

He snorted. “Started with the best of intentions, like the Republic? Off without any of us? Yeah, that going end well. Besides,” he glanced over at her. “You weren't ready for it either.”

It was close to what Rachel had said and she bit her lip. “I could have gotten over it.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Miles tilted his head and she turned to see Bass walking towards them. She didn't want to be glad to see him but she felt the smile on her face and Miles snorted again. “Yeah, totally able to get over him. I wish you could see your face right now.”

“What are you two doing standing out here in the sun?” Bass called to them.

“Talking about you,” Miles yelled back and Bass jogged over until he was standing next to the rail. 

“Well talking about me is a stupid reason to get heat-stroke. You could have at least found shade.”

“It’s not nearly as hot as that afternoon in Mahmoudiyah. What was it, 131 that day?”

“Something like that. But it was also zero humidity. And just because you were stupid enough to go tan on the roof of the MRAP doesn't’t mean Charlie should be subjected to your idiocy. Actually,” he grinned at them both, “its cooler in the house but it’s still hot. I was thinking of going swimming. There’s that stream about a quarter mile from here that we don’t use as a water source and there’s plenty of it in shade.” The thought of sinking herself into cold water was enough to make Charlie realize how hot, sweaty and thirsty she really was. “You coming?” Bass asked but Miles shook his head.

“I’ll pass. Charlie?”

“It sounds amazing.” She was hungry, she realized, but not nearly so much as she wanted to swim.

“Good. Miles, ask Rachel to save out some salad for Charlie and I but you guys should go ahead and eat. And tell her I've changed my mind. I’m doing salad again for dinner because I’m not having the stove lit in this.”

He turned away and Charlie followed. They cut around the pasture and though a patch of trees. It was roughly the way to the ammo-tree but Bass veered west before they got to the tree and Charlie could hear the stream just a few minutes later. It was about six feet wide, a few feet deep and was surrounded by grassy banks. Charlie stripped off her clothes, stepping in. She shrieked at the cold, dunking herself under. The current was faster than it looked and probably fed from somewhere by snow-melt. 

Her skin felt like it was steaming where she raised it out of the water and she turned to see Bass belly-flop, also naked. He came up sputtering but his grin was wide and she caught her breath, realizing it was probably the first time she’d seen him completely naked during daylight. He clearly noticed her glance at his shirt because he shrugged. “What’s fate if not to be tempted sometime.”

He waded over to her and leaned in to kiss her. She trailed a hand over his back and he jerked away from the cold water dripping off it.

They splashed at each other for a few minutes until they were thoroughly chilled and retired to a shady spot on the bank where they could still move their feet into the water. He lay on his back and she snuggled against him. She knew the heat and humidity would drive them apart soon but she let herself relax for a few minutes. His fingers trailed around her thighs and he circled them inward until he slid one of them inside her. She inhaled, tightening herself around him and leaned her head back to look into his eyes. He added a second finger and swirled it around and she felt herself start to pant. He lifted himself up, kissing his way down her body until he was leaving small pecks on her naval. He lifted his head and she read his question. 

She had always stopped him there, pulling him back up to kiss her mouth and take him inside of her. She didn't know what part of her found Sebastian Monroe acceptable as a lover as long as she didn't let him cross certain lines but she nodded slowly, closing her eyes and looking over at the stream. She felt his lips pressing downward, trailing downward until his moved his mouth over her and she felt her hips come off the ground in reaction. Her hands knotted in his hair and she didn't know if she wanted to pull him away or press him closer but she heard his chuckle, even as his tongue flicked out, making her jerk.

He purred as she whimpered, alternating between teasing her with the tip and laving hard strokes. She’d always known, since he’d gotten her alone after their first time, that he knew things. What she hadn't realized was how many more he knew that she hadn't let him try before. He moved his fingers back inside of her and she felt her body start to spasm out of her control.

But if there were phobias she letting go of today, she reflected, perhaps it was best if she sweep them away entirely. And there was a line she had refused to cross herself. She lifted her head, whispering, “Bass, come here.”

He looked up and lifted his mouth. “I’m playing.”

“And I’m not going to stop you. Come here. “ She reached down to pat his shoulder and his eyes went wide when he realized what she meant.

Charlie, you don’t have to—”

“I know. I want to.” She was surprised how much it was the truth, to want to know him in so many more ways than she did.

She sat up and shifted him so she could lie next to the stream and guide him around so he was over her, her head at his groin. He was fully aroused and smelled of outdoors. She kissed the shaft tentatively and his body didn't move but his fingers at her hips jerked. She ran her tongue down his length and heard his low moan. The taste of the stream overlaid another taste that was not unlike the same flavor of the skin at his shoulder, back and chest. She closed her mouth around the head, sucking gently and his breathing went ragged, spilling rough breath onto her own skin and she gasped as he plunged his tongue roughly inside her.

She wasn't sure if it were the fact they were tasting each other but something about their positions seemed more intimate then regular sex and suddenly she understood why she’s kept the boundary for so long, even as she recognized that even she didn't know what it meant that she had just removed it.

But as good as it felt, she realized she wanted to see his face when he came, wanted to be looking into his eyes when she did the same and she wrapped her legs around his neck and her hands around his back. She took a deep breath and rolled them both sideways until they tipped into the stream.

If he had been expecting it, she doubted she’d have been able to have managed it, but he came up gasping, shocked outrage evident and she grinned at him, moving in to kiss him. He was still tense and she didn't know if it was because he was irritated at her for dunking him or himself for letting her. “Woman, I thought you were trying to drown me,” he grumbled as he kissed her and she laughed.

“I thought about it. But I wanted you inside of me more.” She recognized his stubborn glare but if faded as she kissed along his jaw. He lay on his back and she settled herself over him, touching their foreheads together so she was staring into his eyes.

“Well will I at least be allowed to try that again? Or was that a special heat-of-the moment act and I should get used to the idea?”

“Oh, you’ll be allowed to that again.” She whispered, flexing against him and he rolled them over so he was on top and they were also a little further from the stream and she laughed. “I wasn't going to do it again. It was cold.”

He flashed that grin that made her heart feel like it was breaking. “Just to be sure,” he whispered, then dropped his head, gasping, “Charlotte,” against her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, all my "this will happen in Chapter X" estimates need to be pushed back by at least a chapter, because this is a completely new chapter that didn't exist this morning. I started off just trying to introduce a few paragraphs to tie between chapters 8 and 9. And ended up with a whole new chapter 9. It doesn't do much to advance the resistance but I think it puts Bass and Charlie in a much better place for what happens in Chapter 10 (the old 9). Which also doesn't have much to do with the resistance yet either but it does define what will probably be the relationship they'll have for years, if not forever. Sorry, no "I love yous" but plenty of acceptance of "I need yous", even if its not vocalized much. In fact, I'm not even sure there will be an "I love you" in this entire story. Then again, there have been plenty of things I haven't expected (like a whole new chapter 9). Hopefully I can get the old 9/new 10 up soon because I feel so much better about where it goes because of this chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

Monroe alternated between sandwiches and salads the next few days while the weather continued its hottest streak. When they began running low on cooked meat, he dug a hole near the creek, filled it with coals and he and Charlie pit-roasted most of a deer while they lounged in the shade or in the creek itself.

Charlie wasn't sure whether it was the venison or the weather change that was making her nauseous but by the time the temperature and humidity broke three days later, her stomach was twisting constantly. She hoped for food poisoning but everyone else seemed consistently healthy. She was carrying a load of firewood into the house – Bass having finally relented that it was cool enough to cook something – when she nearly doubled over from cramps.

She had, she reasoned, been shot, stabbed, blown up and had a building collapse on top of her, so she kept walking towards the kitchen door, swear pouring off her face and she tried not to whimper.

It wasn't until she opened the kitchen door and found Monroe at the counter, chopping carrots into a pan of chicken, that she realized the uncomfortable moisture between her legs was probably not the result of sweat or humidity. She felt tears prick at her eyes in what felt like just another of a long series of indignities.

He turned and gave her a cocky grin, eyebrows raised at her. “Took you long enough with the wood,” and she felt her face turn bright red. She glanced quickly down and realized the stain probably wasn't visible on her dark jean – probably hadn't even soaked through yet. As if in response her cramping uterus eased for a moment and she felt another warm rush of blood before everything cramped up again, slightly worse than before. At least, she tried to reassure herself, she knew for certain that she wasn't pregnant.

He grabbed most of the armload of wood from her and Charlie tried to straighten but something tugged and something pulled and something else felt like it was alive and trying to claw its way out. The worse part, she decided, was having the body that had carried her reliably across thousands of miles and countless battles feel like it had been taken over by a terrorist.

Everything betrays, she told herself firmly. First it had been enjoying sex with Sebastian Monroe in the first place, and now in this. Bass had been talking to her and she tried to listen but all she caught was the phrase, “sad to be only good at one thing, and it’s almost embarrassing to admit what it is.”

Intellectually she knew she had missed most of what he had said and that – even if she had not been hearing him completely out of context there was no way he had just said she was only good for amusing him in bed. For one thing, she told herself, with his natural survival instinct -- not to mention his natural enthusiasm for that same bed – was far too advanced. She hadn't, she reflected, heard him even mention the word bed. In fact, she wasn't even totally sure he was referring to her.

She tried to breathe her way through the pain trying to reassure herself that there was no way Bass Monroe had just said his only use was in his bed. But the anger flashed out, brutal and murderous and she heard the last few pieces of firewood smash to the floor like she had thrown them there.

“Charlie?” His voice went from teasing to concern. It stopped the rage, but the corresponding humiliation swamped through her and she realized anger had been the only thing keeping the terror and grief that they were all going to leave her away. As if in answer, her body responded with another flow of blood and she was suddenly aware she was bawling, wet, snotty sobs that shook her whole body, even after he pulled her into an embrace, face white. “Charlotte, what’s wrong? Miles? Rachel?”

His questions trailed off as – one by one – no doubt attracted to her cries, her family pelted into the kitchen. It touched off a near-riot as Miles, Rachel and Gene all immediately started yelling at Bass. To his credit, he only held her tighter, and snarked back over her head and the part of her that still maintained a tiny grip on logic almost laughed at his sarcastic, “but my concern something had happened to one of you was clearly misplaced.”

“Well it doesn't exactly look like she's the one who upset you here,” Miles replied, "So forgive us the assumption it would be you'd being the ass." Which was probably as close to an apology as those two ever used with each other. She felt Bass step back and Miles’ arms replace his. “Hey, kid, what’s wrong?”

Telling Miles, Charlie decided, was going to be even worse than telling Monroe – who would have found out anyway when she had told him she’d be sleeping in her own room for the next few nights. She lifted her head out of his chest and glanced between him, Rachel and Gene. From their expressions, none of them were relenting until they got an explanation. Not sure if she was more embarrassed about the fact it had happened or that she had been crying, she snapped, “Month” at Rachel.

Normally having a mother with a freakishly high IQ – Charlie wasn't even quite sure how it was measured; but she’d heard that phrase applied to Rachel too many times not to believe it – was incredibly difficult but for once it turned out to be a benefit because Rachel immediately stopped squaring off against Bass and asked, “Is that all?”

“Yes,” Charlie sniffed, mortified at the fresh waves of tears in her voice.

“Is what ‘all’?” Miles objected, turning his head to face Bass but he kept his arms around her. Monroe’s face was mix of concern and confusion but Charlie could see the hurt in his eyes as he glanced between her and Rachel.

Rachel kept her voice level. “PMS.”

Gene and Bass both looked enlightened but Miles’ arm tightened and his expression went mulish. “I've been around Charlie a long time,” he snapped. “And in all that, there has never been anything like this before.”

Bass’ head jerked back towards her, face echoing Miles. “Rachel, he’s right. True, she’s had her moods. But nothing like this.”

He started to step towards her but Charlie growled low in her throat. Sometimes protective uncles and perceptive lovers were just not worth it. 

“That wasn't PMS,” she snapped. “That was me reacting to you being an ass. And since you all seem to having a burning need to know all the details, I’d stopped. On the way to Philadelphia from Chicago. All the stress and walking. I guess living in a house again. . . .” She trailed off at the look on Miles’ face, which clearly expressed how little he wanted to be hearing about this. 

She started to step away from Miles but his arm locked, pulling her a little closer and he kissed her roughly on the top of the head. “Ouch. Sorry about that.”

“Ouch is right,” she grumbled, moving her hand to her lower abdomen. The outrage and humiliation soothing away with his tone that made her feel like a comrade to be sympathized with rather than a nuisance to be avoided.

“Rachel,” Bass said and she wanted to punch him at the amusement in his voice. “Can you finish dinner?” Charlie didn't hear anything but Rachel must have nodded because suddenly Bass’ hand was on her shoulder. “Gene, do you have any patients today that are going to need the bath?”

“Just that one.” Charlie looked up to find them all still staring at her. It was annoying and just plain humiliating but she realized that a few months ago she’d have fled the house entirely rather than risk such a scene and the fact she’d put herself in that position at all was a marked improvement in her ability to interact.

She felt Miles move away after a last pat on her shoulder and Bass taking her arm, leading her out of the kitchen and into the bath shed. He filled the tub with hot water and helped her strip, kissing her neck and shoulders to cover the initial awkwardness before he dumped her clothes into a bucket of cold water.

He left her to soak in the steaming water and she leaned back against the wooden tub, allowing the hot water to relax her muscles. The worst of the cramping eased and she closed her eyes. Her reactions have been overblown but they hadn't been a complete shutdown.

Bass came back in, carrying her pack. “Rachel put some stuff together she says you’ll need.” He put it in the corner and she noticed he had a bundle of what looked like clothes of his own along with several towels. “Mind company?”

The tub would be a tight fit for both of them but she shrugged and he stripped, piling his clothes haphazardly then sliding into the water next to her. She turned sideways, cushioning her head on his shoulder. His legs stuck out over the edge but it wasn't uncomfortable for her; it was actually surprisingly similar to their sleeping position.

She didn't actually fall asleep but she relaxed, her mind wandering aimlessly until she felt, behind her, the signs of his interest as he hardened. He leaned over and nuzzled her neck . “How are you feeling?”

“A little better. Embarrassed.”

“Don’t be. We all push you so hard and we forget how much younger you are. That your body still reacts different than ours do. Nothing to feel bad about.” His arms tightened. “It was actually a relief. I thought it was something I’d said.” He paused, clearly expectant and she felt herself blush again.

“Something you said I’m sure I misunderstood. What was that, about only being good for one thing?”

“I said I was only good for one thing, and it was kind of pathetic, given the fact I’m at best a mediocre cook anyway. Why?”

“I thought you meant something else and I totally went the wrong way with it. It probably doesn't matter what it was you said. It would have been something else a few minutes later.”

“How are your cramps?”

“It’s one thing,” she snapped, “to discuss emotions. Cramps are something else.”

“How the hell did you get this inhibited?” He sounded truly curious.

“Not a lot of chances to be uninhibited. This isn't like changing a shirt in the field.”

“Well we’ll work on that. Are you willing to trust me?”

She shrugged. “I’m in a tub with you, aren't I?”

“Fair enough.” She heard the laughter in his voice. “Best cure for cramps short of midol.”

“What’s midol.”

“A medication for women having their periods. Cramps, bloating, all sorts of other things. You’d have hated the commercials as much as every other woman I ever met. Something about it being a cold day in hell before they played tennis in white shorts at any time.” She had no idea what he meant but listening to him ramble was soothing. He adjusted her hip over his and she started to squirm away but his hand held her. “Do you trust me?” he repeated and she felt herself flush.

“Yes, but. . .you do realize. . . .”

“Yes, Charlotte,” he drawled with exaggerated patience. “I do realize. This WILL help. And,” he leaned in, voice dropping, “if you think that’s enough to stop me, I’m going to wonder if you've actually been paying attention this last month.”

He slid himself into her and her breath caught as the latent pain she’d almost not been aware of eased and seemed to dissipate. She could already tell the angles were totally wrong for her to orgasm but the fading pain was enjoyment enough and she relaxed her shoulders braced against his chest. He moved slowly, pulling out completely frequently to let her fill with the bathwater. It didn't change the sensations of sex but it also made her feel cleaner.

Sometimes she wondered if he’d be different if he were with someone else – less thoughtful. Or was Bass Monroe going to be automatically protective of any woman he was with; if she were a random encounter rather than Miles’ niece.

She wasn't sure how long he kept moving – ten minutes at least – before his hands tightened at her hips and he growled into the back of her neck. He held her for a long time afterwards, still resting inside of her, until he went soft. He pulled the drain cord, stood and sluiced himself off as the water ran out of the tub. He climbed out, wrapped a towel around his waist and filled the tub again. His hair was standing in curly spikes as he squeezed shampoo into her hair and massaged her scalp, long fingers working into her hair. She leaned back, missing the pillow of his arm but also free to sink a little deeper into the warm water.

He let her duck under the water and rinse her hair and didn't protest when she insisted on conditioning her hair without help. But, eyes sparkling, he snagged a washcloth and started on her back.

He needed, she thought, at least five kids to divide his time. The shiver at the thought of children wasn't nearly as unpleasant and she didn't fight or scream at herself for wanting it, even if she recognized the timing as completely inappropriate. 

Realistically, she decided, they were looking at multiple years of war with the Patriots. And during that time, neither of them would be leaving Miles and their arrangement was too comfortable to give up, even if they didn't need to use it to hide his identity. There was always the chance one of them would be killed but the idea of “falling in love” with some unknown “soul-mate” didn't even sound appealing.

How could she ever, she realized, explain herself to anyone else. Even if they were willing to try, they would never be able to understand about the last few years, her dependence on Miles and Aaron because they were the only ones who had never left her. The only person who would even come close would be Jason but she felt more emotion for Monroe – even if it was hate – than she ever had for Jason.

“Are you okay? You’re scowling.”

“I’m fine.” He didn't look like he believed and she suddenly realized there was no point in lying to him anymore. “Okay, I’m not fine. Mom calls it a biological clock.”

Apparently he was familiar with the term because he looked stunned. “You want kids?”

“Someday. I mean, I shouldn't want them now but apparently that’s what the whole biological clock thing is about. Wanting something when it’s a terrible idea.”

“Kids with. . . .” He looked suddenly terrified.

“Well I’m not sleeping with anyone else, am I?” she said sarcastically but she found herself being pulled half out of the water and being squashed against him. She squawked and he let her go, grinning as he kissed her.

“Do you really mean it?” He looked so much like a scared little boy she reached out a hand to cup his cheek and he trembled, eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Charlotte. You have no idea. . .you do know, if we had a child, we’d never be free of each other.” She nodded, the subtext of “never leave” as clear as if he’d said it out loud. He wiped at his face, voice wry. “What a terrible reason to have a baby.” He kissed her again. “Let’s do it.”

“Not right away,” she warned and he nodded.

“But someday?”

She nodded back, expecting some kind of jubilant reaction but her breath caught and she almost stumbled away because the man who was looking back at her was suddenly General Sebastian Monroe –blue eyes hot with the brutal obsessive gaze she’d fooled herself into thinking had been broken at the same time as Philadelphia.

It was gone a few moments later and it was just Bass who leaned in to kiss her gently but she felt cold in spite of the heat of the water and she wondered what she had just done.

 

By the time she had finished her bath, let him help dry her, dressed in the sweats Rachel had sent down, the worst of the cramps were totally gone but Bass still insisted she go to bed anyway. Part of her questioned if she really had seen the General and another part her tried to argue it didn't matter. General Matheson, co-founder of the Monroe Republic, had been gone for nearly half a decade. But she still sometimes saw flashes of him in Miles.

Gene had unearthed a hot water bottle and Charlie let Bass tuck her into their bed with the warm rubber bladder on her stomach. However, as soon as she heard him going into the kitchen, she rose and went to Miles’ room. He was sitting at his desk, staring at a piece of paper, looking morose, but looked up as she came in. “Hey, Charlie, what’s up? I thought Bass said you were taking a nap?”

“Couldn't sleep.” She was going to have to start setting firmer lines, she realized. It was infinitely easier to let him think he was going to get his own way and then doing what she wanted but it wasn't fair to either one of them. She sat on his bed and he swung his chair to face her.

He gave her a crooked smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “Sort of. I. . .I told Bass I’d be willing to have children eventually.”

He raised his eyebrows and whistled softly. “Wow. How’d that go?”

“I thought okay. At first. We both agreed it couldn't be now, but maybe in a few years. And then I watched him turn back into General Monroe, right in front of me. Just for a minute, but it was there.”

Miles nodded slowly. “He would. Bass. . .gets protective. And it sometimes sends him over the edge.”

“Part of me wonders if having a family will help him, and part of me wonders if it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world for him.”

“A little of both,” Miles admitted. “Depends on the day. But he’ll always do whatever he can to have a family and better he has one with us because we know what to watch for. How to stop him if he starts getting bad.”

“It was easier,” Charlie grumbled, “when we were just trying to kill him.”

“Yeah. It was. But I can’t do that again.”

Charlie snorted. “Neither can I.”

“Good. Because that was part of the reason I was trying to drink myself to death. I couldn't be his friend anymore but I realized I also couldn't live without him. But,” he added hastily, “there is no reason you need to do the same. If you’re not happy with him?”

“The problem is I am. Sometimes too happy. Like he’s trying too hard.”

“He does. But he actually enjoys it. And like I said, we all know what to watch for.” He started to speak, sighed and then started again. “You do know he has a son that he’s going to want to find?”

“With Emma. Yeah.”

“And has he told you about Shelley?”

She nodded. It had been in the start of the second week after they’d started having sex that he had broken down and sobbed out the story of Shelley and the baby that had died. He’d told her about his first meeting with Tom Neville being when the man had stood beside Miles, as Bass had sobbed into Miles’ chest. How Miles had never used the term suicide watch but Miles or Tom or Jeremy Baker hadn't left him alone for days. 

Tom Neville, Charlie realized, hadn't started out a monster either. Julia Neville had been the one to offer one of her own dresses to bury Shelley. Bass had described it as a burgundy cotton dress, with tiny white flowers. It had been the sort of dress that was pretty enough but – before the blackout – a woman wouldn't have hesitated to discard or donate. However, with winter coming and supplies scarce, the gift had been a selfless gesture that meant nothing to a dead woman and everything to a living man.

“So you see why he’d be so emotional about the thought of having children?”

“Yeah.

Miles nodded. “Well, as long as you understand, it’s your choice.”

He glanced back at the sheet of paper and Charlie nodded at it, spiky writing all but unreadable, partially because most names had been heavily scratched through. “What’s that?”

“My list of people to possibly head a resistance here in Willoughby. As you can see, I’m not particularly fond of any of the choices. I’m thinking we may just need to head back east and start the resistance over there.” He pulled out a hand-drawn map and she saw two different arrows leading away from Texas. “Ignore the marks,” he told her. I was toying with the idea of splitting us up so we could double our impact. But I think that’s a really bad idea.”

“Because of me?”

Miles snorted. “No. Because of him. You saw the reaction the rebels had to me five YEARS after I’d left the Monroe Republic. Could you imagine what they’d do to him alone not even a year later? Besides, he’s trying so hard to do everything right but he’s still stuck between being Bass and being General Monroe and I can’t risk him falling back into General Monroe. It would make this whole fight with the Patriots easier. But even I don’t know what would happen at the end of it.”

“So do you know when we’re going to leave. If we’re not doing anything more with a resistance here?”

“I have one more idea. It’s a risk, but they all are and if I’m right – and I think I am – it would get us farther than anything else could.”

He walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. “You’re doing amazing things with him. I haven’t seen him this healthy in years, and that’s a lot due to you. But as I know myself, being his sole keeper can be a problem. Besides,” he smiled sheepishly, “I missed you when you were gone. Bass isn't the only one you make better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been promising the start of the resistance in the next chapter for about three chapters now but I think next chapter is going to really launch the beginning of it as they recruit their newest asset. I think they're also going to have to find out about Gene's Patriot tie pretty soon as well because, even though he's been trying to keep his mouth shut to protect Rachel, he'd have to have been feeding them something and that would probably have to be about Aaron, because the whole nanites thing is going to have to be featured a little more than I have here. I really don't know what to do about Cynthia. I probably will go the easy route and have Horn kill her after all just because then Aaron can leave Willoughby with the rest of them. Besides, that way I can still have Monroe show up in the mist, kill a couple of people and announce "I am Batman"
> 
> We are going to have to wade through the quilting party before they leave Willoughby. I'm not excited about writing it but going back through here I've referenced it so much I really think it would be a cop-out to just say "and after Cynthia's quilting party." I'll try to make something funny happen there at least. Perhaps I'll have Rachel offer to hold it at Gene's because its larger than Cynthia's and they'll have Bass, Miles, Aaron, Gene and Jeremy underfoot. I'll have to come up with a good reason why they would be there too instead of fleeing to Cynthia and Aaron's house.
> 
> As promised, this pretty much sets Charlie and Monroe's relationship for the rest of the story. They've decided that they understand each other and actually enjoy being together. Expect them both to get a little more protective of each other but otherwise, they'll remain mostly the same (a few fights here and there because they're fun to write). As for the family, Rachel has clearly been expecting it and Miles will be a little relieved because it means he gets to keep them both close and if there were every three people who needed each other, it's Miles, Charlie and Bass.


	11. Chapter 11

Miles and Bass excused themselves after dinner that night. Miles pulled her into a quick hug when she asked where they were going, murmuring, “You’re better not knowing. I promise I’ll explain it all soon.”

“If you think,” she snapped, “that I’m the vulnerable one here, you’re wrong.” They both glanced over at Bass and Miles grimaced. “He’d be more likely to break before I would.”

“You may be right,” Miles conceded. “But that’s not what this is about. Trust me, you’ll get it later. But what you’re doing for me isn't something I can afford to lose right now.”

“And what is that exactly?”

He looked irritated. “Do you trust me?”

She glanced over at Bass, who walked towards them, frowning slightly at Miles. “You’re the second person to ask me that today.”

“Yeah,” Monroe commented pleasantly. “But he’s also not trying to ask you to have sex in a bathtub with him. I hope.”

Charlie felt her cheeks turn red and Miles looked like he wanted to throw up and they both glared at Bass, who took her hand, looking remarkable smug.

“If you ever,” Miles snapped, “say anything like that around me again, I am going to drug your food, drag you down to the first hack-quack I can find, and personally pay for your vasectomy.”

Monroe shrugged. “I’m trying to cure her of inhibitions. Though your attitude might explain why she has them.” He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, gently, and smiled at her like he was happy to see her. 

“A vasectomy AND I’ll set you up as President again.”

“Ugh.” She couldn't tell if Monroe’s shudder was real or for show but he clearly meant it either way. “Fine, I’ll be stoic and wooden, and your niece won’t know what I feel for her.”

“And what is that, exactly?” Miles asked and Charlie felt panic rise, sudden and terrifying. If he said it. . .if he expected her to say it back . . .if. . . .She wondered if she were about to throw up as Monroe turned to look at her for a long time.

“I need her,” he said quietly and Charlie exhaled the breath she didn't realize she’d been holding, the urge to vomit easing. Need, she could accept. She worried for a minute she was expected to say something in return but Monroe leaned it to kiss her again, quickly this time, before he jerked his head towards the door. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

She went back up to their room after they’d headed out, leaving the dishes to Rachel and Gene, and stared around at the sterile blandness. Most of her belongings had been moved back into the room next door when he’d said he was leaving and she hadn't moved them back yet because it was more practical to keep their stuff separate. There wasn't room in the small dresser for both their clothes and the closet was one of the smallest in the house. The only reason they slept in it all was because her room shared a wall with Rachel’s room and neither wanted that.

So, she reflected, she could admit to herself that she was more comfortable with him than without him; decide that she was willing to have children with him eventually; was willing to accept ‘I need’ but the thought of hearing “I love you” or having to say it made her panic.

“In for a penny,” she muttered to the empty room and took a deep breath. Rachel might not like helping her move the dresser, she decided, but she’d made her choice and it was time to start living with it.”

 

The night was moonless and she woke hearing the thump of bone-on-wood and half-sat up, listening to Bass’ string of curses. From the sound alone she couldn't tell if he’d hit his knee or elbow but whatever it was, he’d hit it hard.

“You trying to wake everyone up?”

He dropped his voice to a half-whisper, and she smiled as he continued the invective. “What the hell is that?” She could hear the sound of his hands feeling the unfamiliar shape near the bed.

“It’s my dresser.”

“What’s it doing there?”

“I needed somewhere to put my clothes.”

“Well, what was wrong with having it in your room? Or is there a reason you've decided to booby-trap mine?” She didn't say anything, feeling the mattress depress as he sat down and heard a pair of thumps as his boots hit the floor. His sharply in-drawn breath told her when he got it and suddenly he was crouching on the floor next to her head. He was barely whispering when he asked, “It’s not MY room anymore is it?”

She started to shake her head before she realized there was no possible way he could see her in the darkness and whispered, “No” back to him. “Do you mind?” she asked a minute later when he hadn't moved or spoken and she felt him reach up to take her hand.

“No, Charlotte. I don’t mind.”

She was glad she couldn't see his face, if he was just Bass or if General Monroe was there as well but a moment later she realized it didn't matter. General Monroe was the one who probably needed her most of all, and she wasn't going to be able to walk away from him any more than Miles had.

She woke once in the middle of the night and wondered for a few minutes if she were alone in the bed because he wasn't wrapped around her like normal. But she felt his fingers on hers and as her eyes became accustomed to the dark she saw the vague shape of him, lying on his stomach next to her.

When she woke again, he was staring down at her, the faint gray of pre-dawn lightening the blackness. He leaned over to kiss her on the nose. “Morning, Beautiful .”

“Good morning, yourself.” She sat up enough to return his kiss and when they settled back onto the mattress is was in the more familiar embrace she used to from him. “So,” she asked, feeling her stomach clench but rushing on, “this isn't just some ‘now you have me you don’t want me’is it?”

He pulled back a few inches, frowning. “Why would you think that?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night and you were over there. First time in all the time we've been sleeping together that you haven’t practically used me as security blanket.”

“Maybe because I’m feeling secure.” At her glare he smiled. “You probably don’t remember it, but you seemed to be more comfortable on your back.” He nuzzled her neck. “So if anyone should be worried, it should be me. Except you kept reaching out. You got me in the eye. Twice. Which is why I moved over there, so you could still have my arm but at least I wasn't getting maimed.”

“Oh, sorry.”

She could feel his erection against her leg and he started running his hands around the edge of her sweats and she started to squirm away.

“Again?” He sounded tired.

“It’s just. . . .”

“Answer me honestly, Charlotte. Do you think it’s gross or are you just worried about me thinking that.”

She remembered her first period, when she had been nearly fifteen. She had been at school, wearing a pair of tan pants, feeling the stickiness pooling against her thighs while Miss Jamison had lectured about the history of Europe. Thanks to Maggie, she knew exactly what was happening to her, but she had been afraid to get up and move. When classes had broken for lunch, she had told Danny she was cold and needed his jacket. He had been only too happy to hand it off, not even noticing when she had wrapped it around her waist rather than wearing it.

She’d gotten home and changed, using the rags Maggie had given her and no one have ever said anything but she remembered the fear and humiliation and the sureness that everyone in the village would know she had been bleeding all over the school bench.

“I. . . .How can you not think its gross?”

“Because it’s you.” When she didn't reply, he moved his hands to play with her hair. “Okay, you don’t seem to be disgusted when I come inside you, are you?” She shook her head. She wasn't sure she wanted to admit it but she loved the way his body locked up, every muscle straining, the way he almost always gasped her name. “You didn't even seem to mind a few days ago, when I was in your mouth and didn't pull out in time.”

That had been a different. It had been the first time they’d tried oral in a bed. The salty-muskiness had almost choked her but his own face had been buried in her thighs, his erection hardly softened against the back of her throat and she had hesitated between trying to roll over and spit into the sheets or onto the floor but the need to vomit had come swamping up from her stomach. She has swallowed reflexively, sucking harder to try to quell the feeling and it had faded, even as he’d nearly kneed her in the face trying to thrash away from her, his voice desperate as he’d begged her to stop. 

She hadn't stopped, until she’d practically reduced him to tears, threats to do the same thing to her sometime ringing hollow, his superior strength completely useless. He had told her afterwards she was welcome to do it again, but only as long as it was only a few times a year. “You wouldn't want to –“ He cut her off with a shake of her head. 

“No, there I do have a limit. But I really don’t want to stop having sex with you for a week every month.”

“It just seems like to would be so messy.”

“This is why towels exist.”

The growl in his voice made her smile and she almost made another comment but she suddenly realized the desperation in his voice and his eyes both were because he was about to give up and let her have her way if she really wanted it. Since she knew he was capable of countering every argument she could come up with, the knowledge that he would quit because he didn't want to push her too much almost made her eyes tear up and she nearly cursed out-loud at the extra emotions that were – in their own way – as annoying as the blood. “Well I hope you have some then.”

The relief in his face was nearly palpable as he leaned in, breathing, “Way ahead of you,” before he kissed her.

It wasn't until an hour or so after they went downstairs that she realized something was bothering him. Whether she was talking to Miles, Gene or Rachel, he kept coming up like he wanted to say something, then would change his mind and walk away.

Her first thought was that he was hovering, which annoyed her, but the look on his face was misery, not protection and Gene even asked her quietly if they’d had a fight. “No,” she replied back. “But we might be about to.” 

She jerked her head at the kitchen door and he sighed, nodded, and walked out with her right behind him; Miles’ quiet but unmistakable, “Oh, shit,” echoing behind them both.

He walked over to lean against the woodpile, face closed against all emotion and she felt the first stirring of alarm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I am happy. About us. You know that, right?”

She nodded. The words “us” referring to her and Monroe seemed a little surreal on their own but she pushed away that thought for another time.

“And you know I never want to hurt you?”

“Okay.”

“But you know there are things in my past which. . .I wouldn't say they are more important to you. Because I don’t think they are. But they’re still important.”

“Okay.” It wasn't an answer, but the cold dread winding its way through her stomach made it hard to come up with something more eloquent when she suddenly wondered if he was trying to find a way to tell her he was leaving.

He bent his head to touch it to her forehead and she saw the tears in his eyes and suddenly the cold dread morphed into hot anger, almost as desperate as the day she’d watched the bullets hit Danny. It was different emotion but the same fear running though it so she forced herself to not move, because she wasn’t sure what she’d do if she did.

“I am so glad that you want us to have children someday. That makes me so happy, I can’t even begin to . . .I can’t. . .I literally can’t say how it makes me feel. But. . .I . . .I have another son out there somewhere and as much as I want to forget about him and just have a life with you. . .I need. . .I need to find him too.”

The empty hollow in her soul, filled with the grief of the death of so many people she had loved, felt strangely bereft, like there was nothing more to feel and she frowned at him.

“Are you saying you need to find him?”

“If Miles’ plan succeeds, we’ll have some time before he launches the next phase of the resistance but we’ll need to be out of Willoughby. And I. . .I want to use that time to find my son. He might not want anything to do with me. And I can accept that. But I have to know. And I have to tell him that I didn't abandon him.”

She pulled away and he started to clutch for a moment but then his fingers opened and he let her go. She concentrated on her breathing, wanting to get each word right and she heard her voice cut when she started to speak but wasn't sure how to stop it. “And you thought I wouldn't want you to?”

He shrugged, wiping at his eyes, started to speak but gave up. She reached out and laced their fingers together. “That’s always been the plan. You, me and Miles. My Mom too, if she wants to come. If things get bad, we may even get Grandpa, Aaron and Cynthia.”

He broke down as she stepped back into his arms. She was still angry that he had terrified her so much for something she had already expected but part of her wondered if this was how Miles had felt when he told her he wasn't leaving her after Maggie had died. She let him cry, wondering when Sebastian Monroe had broken as badly as she had and if he could understand what having family meant again. 

“Did you really think I’d get upset over that?”

“I didn't know. I was so scared you’d expect me to move on.”

“I think this family is able to take another person. Heck, by the time we’re done, no telling how many more people will be a part of it. Though you scare me like that again and you’ll be sleeping in Miles’ room.”

“Miles doesn't cuddle well,” he sniffed, and she shook her head. She’d accused him once of crying to manipulate but in the last few months she realized he just showed every emotion when and how it came to him and she made a quick note to ask Miles about it. “He thrashes around too much.” At her look, he shrugged. “What. We were in the Marines together. The motto of field exercises was ‘pack it light, freeze at night’ so you and a buddy always swapped body heat when you got down time. I usually ended up throwing in an extra set of thermals because he just wouldn't hold still.”

“Come on, we should go back inside before Miles comes looking for us. He was pretty worried.”

“He just doesn't want to get stuck picking up the pieces of my life. Again.”

She smiled. “Maybe a little. But he does love you.”

“I know. I love him too. Which may be why I need you so much.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

She sighed. “Well, it’s not like I didn't know that already. And it might work both ways, actually.”

He grinned. “So you’re saying we’d probably both be healthier if we’d each just go have sex with Miles directly instead of trying to connect with him through each other?”

She pulled away, face twisting. “That’s gross. He’s my uncle.”

“And he’s my brother.”

She wanted to hurt him, just a little, and she smiled suddenly. “Well, I suppose that’s as good an explanation as you’re likely to get when your son asks you why you’re with a woman younger than him.”

He grimaced. “Below the belt, Charlotte.”

“Like accusing me of lusting after Miles wasn't?”

He shrugged. “Point. Lusting probably was the wrong term. Obsessing may be better.”

She wanted to tell him he was wrong but as they looked at each other she exhaled heavily. “Yeah, you’re probably right there.” He wasn't, she decided. But she could admit she loved Miles. He had been her world and her center since her father had died. But if she could say she loved him, and Monroe could say the same thing, neither of them had to try to say what they felt for each other. For now, that was as far as she could go.

 

The heavy pounding came at dawn and Monroe pulled her closer to him, swearing into her neck about suspicious idiots but Miles burst in the door without knocking, shoving Bass’ sword at him and pulling the blankets off them both. The fact that he didn't seem to care that they were naked scared Charlie more than anything.

“What’s going on?” she gasped but Miles was throwing her shirt at her, loading her crossbow, even as Bass was dragging on his trousers.

“They’re here. Probably at least twenty of them. They've got the big guns with them.”

She heard Gene at the door, voice sharp with anger but the footsteps on the stairs were past him even as Charlie caught the words of protest and Miles was out the door again.

She took a quick glance out the window but there were at least five men watching the window and she heard Captain Bailey’s voice at the door, “Ah, Mr. Matheson. Is there a reason for the sword?”

“Is there a reason for the invasion?” she heard Miles snap.

“In fact, there is.” She felt Monroe at her shoulder as one of the men lifted his rifle and sighted it at the window. “We need to speak to your friend. James, was it?”

They had been stupid, Charlie realized, to trust that a thin cover was worth anything and the bubbling despair and screams in her head of “too late” threatened to overwhelm her but she grabbed for the crossbow only to be stopped by his hand.

“Not here,” he muttered, belting on his sword and he strode to the door, head upright. “You know exactly what my name is, Carissa,” he said, one eyebrow cocked in amusement. “You've used it plenty of times.”

The Patriot Captain had probably twelve men on the stairs and Charlie suddenly felt hopeful. They’d box each other in and only the first two men would be able to use firearms. Her dark hair was in a messy knot, as if she’d dressed hastily. “What I know is up for debate Mr. Kingsley. Or should I say, Mr. Monroe.”

Bass groaned, projecting his voice. “That again? Do you know how many bounty hunters I've dealt with during this last year. Foster nuked the bastard in Philly the same time as he got her. If you’re looking for a scapegoat, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

She gestured at his arm. “So what’s with the sleeves?”

“I had a tattoo of a K with a circle around it. I burned it off because I was sick and tired of blind idiots thinking it was an M. “

“Quite the coincidence.” She sounded sarcastic but there was an edge of doubt and Charlie realized she wasn't sure, just suspicious.

“Not really. It was a Marine Corps thing, actually. And the forearm is not a rare spot for a tattoo. Now, unless I am actually under arrest, I’d like to go back to bed.”

“You aren't under arrest, but you are being detained.” One of the men stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs and Charlie saw Miles tense.

“Excuse me,” Rachel’s voice was perfectly reasonable, even though it sounded sleepy. She walked out of her bedroom, buttoning her shirt. “But do any of you think I would harbor General Monroe here, in my house. After he killed my son and husband?”

Carissa looked almost smug, which was probably, Charlie thought, the scariest thing. “Fortunately I don’t have to try to make this decision. You will accompany us to Patriot Headquarters and there is someone there who will be able to tell us for sure if you are General Sebastian Monroe or not.”

Bass allowed them to handcuff him, and they confiscated all their weapons but Miles refused to allow Captain Bailey to leave him or Charlie behind. Her voice was tinged with suspicion when she asked, “So when have you been interested in the man your niece sleeps with? If he’s not Sebastian Monroe, why would you care what happens to him?”

“If he is Sebastian Monroe, why would I care what happened to him? I tried to kill him, remember. We had a falling out over that, even before he killed my brother. And I don’t precisely care about the man my niece sleeps with, but I do care about her. And she cares about him. So. . .you’re taking us both with you.”

“And me,” Rachel added quietly. Captain Bailey looked between them and her face twisted.

“Fine, have it your own way. But be aware, I was prepared to believe he was holding you all prisoner here. But if he is confirmed to be General Monroe, you may all face charges as well.”

“Lady,” Bass signed. “If I really am Sebastian Monroe, that will be the least of your problems.”

The ride to Patriot headquarters took about ten minutes and Charlie tried to shut her mind down on the way. She had what-if’d Danny’s death until she had made herself sick. Bass’ bored annoyance combined with Miles’ cocky blasé were no doubt acts but she was sure Miles was coming up with some kind of plan. She wondered if the person who had supposedly knew him was someone she knew – Adam or a Rebel or Georgian Soldier – or a stranger, perhaps even a member of the Militia.

They led him into a conference room where Director Truman was looking sleepy and worried and Carissa leaned in to whisper a few words to him and he nodded in the direction of the far door.

“Now ,” Carissa said. “We have Captain Jeremy Baker, who claims to know General Monroe well enough to identify if you really are him or not.”

Bass, Charlie noted, looked appropriately blank but Miles barked a laugh. “Lady, I don’t know who you've got but whoever they are, they’re a liar. General Monroe had Captain Baker executed for treason nearly a year ago.”

“So you know Captain Baker well enough to know if is really him or not?”

“Yeah. And he’s dead.”

Carissa gestured at the door and one of the Patriot guards pulled it open and Charlie felt all the blood rush to her head as the man standing on the other side of it chuckled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Miles. “

Captain Jeremy Baker came strolling through the door with every bit of cocky good-humor he’d shown the day he’d nearly broken Charlie’s world by telling her who Miles really was. He titled his head, staring at Bass, then glancing between him and Miles, grin going snarky. “Huh. Well, I guess it’s true.”

She saw Carissa and Truman tense and Charlie felt like her heart was going to explode. “Miles, I always knew you had a type.”

“Excuse me?” Director Truman sounded as stunned as Charlie felt and she felt like she was re-learning how to breathe.

“A type. I thought at first it was just blondes, but if that were the case he could have had me and we’d both have been happier. But I wasn't Bass and my eyes weren't blue enough and I wasn't tall enough and my hair wasn't curly. Which explains a lot, actually.” He jerked his head, managing to encompass Charlie and Rachel as well as Bass. 

Truman looked disgusted. ”Is that Sebastian Monroe or not?”

Baker paced closer. “Looks a little like him. But no, that is not General Monroe. So,” he grinned, “Miles, are you sleeping with all three of them?”

“You’re sure?” It was Captain Bailey who spoke and by the tone of her voice she didn't believe him.

Captain Baker met her gaze, face suddenly showing his boredom with the whole thing. “Sweetheart, he tried to have me executed. I had to flee Philadelphia and leave my two favorite pets there so no one would know I was still alive. Do you know how expensive it was to find talents like those two had? The things they could do. They both died in his and Foster’s bombs. Why the hell would I lie to protect him?” He nodded his head at Rachel. “He held her prisoner for nine years. I seriously doubt she’d welcome him into her home. I’m actually surprised she can even stand someone who even looks like him.”

“Appearances,” Bass said, voice even, “can be deceiving. Just because I happen to look like Monroe doesn't mean I have to act like him.”

Baker shrugged. “So, Miles, you never answered my question.”

“I’m not sleeping with any of them. I've been in mourning for you, Jeremy”

Baker grinned. “If only I thought that was true.”

“I really did think you were dead. What are you doing in Texas?”

“Well, our friends here are not convinced General Monroe is dead. I personally think he either nuked with the city or Tom put a bullet in his brain. If he was still alive we’d have heard of him long before now. But they got word of a possible sighting here with you and I decided to volunteer to make the trip out. Even if I didn't get the satisfaction of ratting Monroe out, I’d have a chance to catch up with you. We got in this morning. Charming little shit-hole you've got here.”

Monroe held out his hands, shaking the cuffs at Truman. “Okay, guys, no hard feelings. You were all just doing your jobs. But since this witness of yours clearly just said I am NOT General Monroe, can I get this off now.”

Truman looked disappointed but he nodded. “Go ahead,” he signed and Carissa looked like she was sucking on a dandelion root but she gestured a Soldier over to unlock the bindings. As soon as he was loose Bass rubbed at his wrists but then he walked over to Charlie and out an arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, don’t look like that,” he soothed, “We knew it was going to be okay.”

They hadn't, Charlie knew but he was right and she had a part to play so she smiled at him, not letting the relief swamp at her.

“You can,” Carissa snapped, “pick up your weapons on your way out. Do I need to arrange your transportation home?”

“It’s not far,” Rachel said, her voice gracious. “We’ll just walk.”

“You stuck out here?” Miles asked. “It’s been a while, Jeremy. I’d love to hear how the heck you got out of Philadelphia after Monroe thought you were dead and what you've been doing with yourself the last six months.” Charlie almost choked at the way the two men were looking at each other, gazes hot. Truman looked surprised and a little worried. Considering the amount of time, Charlie reflected, Truman and Miles had been spending together, his concern might be reasonable. Carissa’s gaze was more suspicious but she also clearly had no proof Baker was lying.

“It would be good to. . .catch up. Hey, Director, I think I will stay in town a few days rather than going straight back to Savannah. Unless you object?” 

Baker was looking at Rachel and she shrugged. “You always were my favorite jailer.”

“You just liked the fact I wasn't interested in you. Always did prefer brunettes.” He and Miles met each other’s eyes again and Charlie suddenly wondered how much about Miles she didn't know.

“I thought,” Truman sounded hesitant, ”you said Dr. Porter’s house couldn't take any more people? That all the rooms were full.”

Baker’s grin was sharp, and Miles was suddenly blushing light pink. “Well, I did. . . .”

“Oh, I won’t need a room of my own.”

This time it was Truman who flushed and Baker walked back into the other room and grabbed a pack, flipping it over his arm. “I’d say I’d be back for dinner. But I’d be lying.”

Charlie’s adrenaline was still spiking as they walked out of the Patriot headquarters and a few of the tan-clad Soldiers swiveled to watch them but didn't try to stop them. Baker turned to look at Monroe and his face twisted. “I hope you know how close that was, you son of a bitch. If I’d have been practically anyone else.”

“Jeremy.” Bass’ voice was choked but his face was still even and the other man signed. 

“Later.”

“So,” Charlie asked Miles, “Was this part of the plan?”

“This,” Miles admitted, “Was a complete surprise.” He glanced at Baker, expression suddenly confused. “Pets?”

“Well,” Baker shrugged. “I had a cat and a parakeet in Philadelphia. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be Chapter 12 but I decided to switch Chapter 12 and Chapter 11 and incorporate the quilting into Chapter 12 at the same time they're trying to flip Captain Bailey by telling her a little about what the Patriots really are doing. I still have to deal with the Horn/Nanite thing and I'm kind of at a loss on what I want to do with that because whatever it is, I want to try to get it over with fairly quickly. If you'd have asked me a few days ago I think I would have said Cynthia was going to have to die to get Aaron out of Willoughby with them (as much as I kind of want to leave him, I'm not sure I can). But, giving Jeremy the chance to complain about a traveling circus as Miles, Charlie, Bass, Jeremy, Gene, Rachel, Aaron and Cynthia all go on the run together may be too good to pass up. Miles will probably compare them to Bass' desk, and how Jeremy never complained when Bass dragged it around to the field with him. 
> 
> Baker tones down a lot once they all get back to Gene's. I'm not going to pursue the idea that he and Miles had a history together beyond what's been shown in flashbacks but I think Baker is a charming, clever, on-his-feet thinker that pegged Truman as a little bit of a homophobe and immediately figured that was the best way to get him off-balance and used Truman's own prejudices to get him to quit thinking. I'm so happy no one thought the idea of using Baker was cheating because my next option was Captain Riley but he sided with Tom at the Tower and I couldn't think how he wouldn't be willing to hand Bass over to the Patriots because he really was afraid of him. Baker was pissed but I think he knew so many of Monroe's issues were about Miles and seeing them together again would reassure him that Bass was at least saner than their last meeting. He'll have some doubts about continued sanity, but that's for a later conversation.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to minstorai for use of an idea (additional citations at the end).

Charlie and Bass were mostly silent on the walk back to Gene’s house, thought Miles and Baker kept up a patter about the stage-coach ride he’d endured to get to Texas. It was mostly meaningless, meant to enforce the illusion of two -- Charlie wasn't sure if friends was the appropriate term -- given how much they kept touching each others arms or shoulder; though she noticed it was only when there was anyone to see them.

Gene was sitting at the kitchen table, a pistol in front of him and his face crumpled when they walked back into the house. He shoved the gun away and folded Rachel and Charlie both in his arms. Miles opened the parlor door, checked to make sure the curtains were closed and led everyone inside. Gene still kept his hand in Rachel’s and Charlie felt Bass pull his hand away before he was embracing Captain Baker, sobbing into the man’s shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” were the only words she could catch and Captain Baker’s mask slipped as he patted Monroe on the shoulder.

“Shh, Bass. It’s okay.”

“No, you don’t understand. I did horrible things and I. . .but you, I had you killed and I. . .the only person who still believed in me and I killed you and. . .”

Baker grinned. “Miles, do you have any tissues. I’m about to start crying here.”

Monroe looked up, “I’d forgotten what a smarmy SOB you could be.” But his voice was filled with affection and his eyes were still wet.

“Yeah,” Miles added. “My reputation is never recovering from this.”

“Speaking of reputations, I am sharing your room. I wouldn't put it past these guys to check.” Baker held his arm out and suddenly all three men were embracing.

When they stepped apart, Bass came over to hug Charlie and she could see the joy in his eyes.

“So,” he asked, sitting on the sofa with her pulled against him. “How did you make it out?”

“Did you ever ask to see my body?”

Bass froze, then sighed. “By the time I asked, you’d already been buried. But Franklin saw them carrying you out rolled in a rug and he said you'd been shot in the head. Jeremy, they told me the next day that you had nothing to do with the assassination. And I. . .if I could have taken it back.”

“Well, if you learned to think before you kill, it may have been worth it. Especially considering what would have happened if I had still been in Philadelphia. As for blood, I’d been packing around a bag of whatever guts and blood the butcher had for me since we got back from Indiana. I paid him very well not to ask questions. I think it was chicken that day. I admit, I thought I’d be using the day Miles and his Rebels invaded, because I saw the look on his face when that woman died.”

“Chicken guts?” Charlie asked.

“A little disgusting, I know. But better than my own guts. So he accuses me of betraying him and leading him into an ambush and then he just walks out, doesn't even have the courtesy to watch me die.” Baker sounded bitter but then he shrugged. “Which was a good thing, but still hurt a little.”

“Not as much as a bullet would have,” Monroe muttered.

“True. But it was the principal. All four of your guards were closing in and I realized I’d picked every one of them, trained them. Raised them, so to speak. So I pulled out that bag, dumped chicken intestine on my head. They were all looking at me like I was crazy You never noticed the hole I put in your ceiling, I’ll bet.”

“You fired that shot?”

“And they let me do it. I think they thought at first I was going to kill myself so they didn't have to but then I laid down, Franklin came in but he didn't check me and they just rolled me up in that rug and carted me out. I stayed in the rug while they dug a grave and tossed the rug in, buried it and I thanked them, assured them I was going to disappear entirely and they didn't have to worry about being found out. Then I Mathesoned my way out of Philadelphia that night without ever going home and made my way to New York and I really thought it was over.”

“How did you end up with the Patriots?” Miles asked.

“I heard about the bombs and I really thought he and Foster had nuked each other. I kicked myself for not going back and putting a bullet into him myself but consoled myself that dying in a nuke had been punishment enough. But then I ran into Captain Riley about two months ago and he told me about how you’d all been out in Colorado; how Tom Neville had taken over and if there had been a nuke, it hadn't been you because you’d been on the run. Then these ‘Patriots’ show up and their symbol matched that ring Randall Flynn wore. Please tell me someone killed him, at least.”

“He shot himself in the head,” Rachel said softly. “After he’d launched the bombs. Before they could land.”

Baker whistled softly. “He did kind of have that low-grade crazy vibe coming off him. So I decide to go check these guys out, try to figure what they’re planning. Told them the truth, that I was a high ranking officer in the Militia who Sebastian Monroe decided to kill.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “So why aren't you in their uniform?”

“They offered me a commission. I told them I was a little off military service but willing to consult. So I've spent the last few months talking about how the Republic formed. Then Washington gets a letter from Captain Bailey asking if there is someone who can ID General Monroe because she might have him in Texas. I didn't believe it myself until they said that Miles Matheson was there too.”

“So what made you decide to say I wasn't me?”

“I never said you weren't Sebastian Monroe. I only ever said you weren't General Monroe. You think I’d forget about that the day you two saved my life? I was about the least prepared person for the blackout ever and even if those guys hadn't have attacked me I’d probably have died a few days later from starvation. Even ordering my execution didn't change that.” Baker grinned. “Besides, you were always better with Miles and I figured if you two were together again, you wouldn't be nearly as crazy. Seems I was right about that.”

 

Gene left soon afterwards to visit a patient and Rachel decided to go with him. Charlie wasn't sure if it had been prearranged or if having three of the men who had once held her captive staying in her childhood home was bringing up the emotions she so often brutally repressed.

Baker and Charlie both followed Bass into the kitchen when he declared he wanted to try the chicken pie Rachel had made the week before using venison. Charlie settled herself at the table with the carrots, potatoes and peas while Bass started on the crust and Baker took the chair next to her, not even trying to hide his amusement of the sight of Sebastian Monroe, acting as cook.

Miles hesitated in the doorway, then headed towards the stairs. “As much fun as it would be to watch you watch him, if we’re going to be sharing a room, I need to go move some stuff. I’ll take your pack up.” At Charlie’s look, he sighed. “I really wouldn't be surprised if we got another dawn visit tomorrow.”

He was half-way up the stairs when Baker yelled, “Remember, Muffin, I sleep naked.”

“That’s okay, Kitten, you can massage my back,” Miles called back and Baker laughed, then winked at Charlie. 

“We’ll see which one of us cracks first. I’ll stay in his room tonight, just to make him crazy, because I snore. But if no one comes by then I’ll find somewhere else to sleep. If anyone asks I’ll just tell them its none of their damn business where I sleep and a proper romance is enhanced with a little mystery. ”

“There’s the room that was mine,” Charlie told him. “Miles probably doesn't know yet that I've moved all my stuff out of it yesterday.”

Baker leaned back, glancing between her and Monroe. “So how the hell did that happen?”

“The Gods,” Bass said, “smiled on me.”

“We were pretending we were a couple to explain what he was doing here, so people associated him with me instead of Miles. And I decided the worst part of the whole thing was being terrified that something would happen that I would end up having sex with him. Eventually I realized I was so freaked out about that I just wanted to get it over with.”

“And the moment was wonderful and you fell in love?” There was stinging sarcasm in Baker’s too-sweet voice.

“It was awful. We were trying to distract a group of Patriots so Miles and my Mom could get some ammo hidden that we’d smuggled through their supply line. There were more than a half-dozen of them watching us, which we had to pretend we didn't know about.” She was expecting something sarcastic but he raised an eyebrow then nodded at her.

“You've got guts, Charlie. I’ll give you that.” At her startled look he sighed. “If I was a gambler, I’d have put my money on you leaving Miles to rot, that day at the restaurant. When you and Nora got him away from me, I figured you just needed him to get your brother and then you’d cut and run back to that village of yours. It can’t have been easy on you, learning everything you have about your family.”

Charlie felt the knot in her throat and choked it down. She wasn't sure if it was the open admiration in his face and voice or the fact her emotions had been volatile the past few days.

“Okay,” Bass said, glancing over from the dough he was kneading. “That’s enough. Save your flirting for Miles. This Matheson’s mine.” He looked guilty immediately after he said but Charlie decided to let the comment pass.

“So about Miles,” Charlie asked, wondering how her Uncle’s preferences had become so frequent a topic of conversation.

“If you’re asking if my eclectic tastes have included your Uncle, no, they have not. In fact, if it eases your mind, nor have they included him.” He jerked his chin at Bass. “But I judged your Director Truman to be one of those people who a discussion of anything related to sexual matters would throw him off entirely. As usual, I was right. I first distracted him from the real issue of the identity of Sebastian Monroe and before the conversation was done, not only have I got him to stop thinking entirely, I got him to make Captain Bailey stop thinking. It’s a skill.” He leaned back, looking smug.

“How come you didn't use it on me?” Bass asked.

“What makes you think I didn't? Remember what I told you, that day you ordered me executed?” When Bass looked away, Baker nodded. “You were so paranoid and unstable even I couldn't stop you. But you walked out rather than shoot me yourself. In fact, you never actually gave the order for those poor boys to shoot me either and when your heard the shot you just assumed it had been done. Would you say that I got you to stop thinking?”

Bass looked surprised and then shook his head. “And I thought Miles was the dangerous one.”

“Well, depends on what way. When it comes to tactics, we’re not as unevenly matched as I’d like. And he clearly has me in a straight fight. Granted, I've worked very hard to improve since that day you two rescued me from being beaten to death. Before the blackout I depended entirely on my brain, and that wasn't enough when someone just came up and started beating the stuffing out of me without actually listening to what I was saying.”

“What were you,” Charlie asked, “before the blackout?”

“IRS auditor. My job was to go through everyone’s tax returns and find where they were cheating. Hence, why the Republics tax code was so straight-forward. Once a season with Fall taxes being the biggest after harvest and spring, summer and winter taxes being relatively light.”

Charlie frowned. “I always thought it was because they were greedy and just believed in over-taxing.”

“No. If you have to save all year it’s easy to touch that money for other things you need or want or think you’ll start saving the next month. When they're due quarterly it was easier to spread the expenses around. For the tax payers and the government. The problem was the Republic and Militia never got to the point where they operated independently from each other. I had plans laid out to get them to divide within a decade or so but we didn't last long enough for that.”

“I never knew that,” Bass said quietly.

“Well, a lot of it went out the window when Miles left. Before that you were President Monroe and he was General Matheson but you ended up taking on both after he died. I was trying to angle you to make Colonel Faber a General and split again but then Julia Neville instigated his downfall to keep you from sending Jason to California. I just kept hanging on, hoping things would get better but they just kept getting worse.”

“Why did you keep trying to get me to kill Miles?” Bass started chopping the potatoes Charlie had been peeling.

“You were so paranoid about him, constantly worked up about what he was going to do. That balance between hope he’d come back and despair he had left. If you had killed him, I think you’d have gotten better because you weren't constantly walking that razor. Granted, even I tried to bring him back to you alive. But when I thought that wasn't an option, that’s when I started trying to get you to kill him.” After a moment he added, “Even I never pictured something like this.” He glanced around the kitchen, shaking his head. “You, living with Miles, partnered with his niece. Talk about practically an arranged marriage for dynastic alliances.” He swung his gaze back over to Charlie. “Do me a favor. If you ever decide to leave him, don’t tell him that. Just put a bullet in his brain while he sleeps.” As she started to protest he smiled. “And that would be doing him a kindness.”

“Actually,” she added, “Miles says if I ever want to leave I have to let him know first.”

“Glad to know,” Bass said dryly. “That you all talk about me.”

“Do you blame us?” Baker asked and Bass grimaced.

“Maybe not.” But he shot a concerned glance at Charlie and she smiled at him.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “With my abandonment issues, not something you really need to get worked up over. “But Miles wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling trapped.”

He went back to pressing crust into a pie pan and Baker shook his head. “I can’t believe I actually missed all this enough to step back straight into the middle of it.”

 

Rachel and Gene were back for lunch and while Bass’ pie crust wasn't was good as Rachel’s – though there was still butter left, which there hadn't been after she had made hers – Baker seemed impressed by the effort and even volunteered to assist with dishes. They were just finishing lunch when Rachel said, “I ran into Cynthia. It seems there are more people coming to this quilting of hers than she had originally planned and she asked if it would be possible to have it here instead of at her house. I had offered it, last week, when she had first mentioned it.”

“Quilting?” Baker asked and Miles grimaced.

“Yeah, we've got Charlie and Rachel getting us a fair amount of info from getting involved in the community events. The Patriot’s wives don’t let much tactical info slip but we can tell a lot about their long term plans based on what how their wives are also getting involved.”

“The doctor and his family are in a pretty prominent position,” Rachel explained. “I just am not sure having so many people around, with the Patriots suspicious of Bass and Jeremy here. But I have to think of a good reason to give to Cynthia since I had offered.”

Charlie found Baker’s smile a little alarming, as his initial amusement seemed to grow with each passing minute. “When is this thing?”

“Saturday. Two days from now,” Miles commented.

“Oh Rachel, don’t tell me you've stopped thinking too.” Baker looked disappointed, glanced around the table and his face implied he was sitting with children. “It would be so much better if you didn't put her off. Open up the whole house and have them all here.”

“I suppose you all could go over to Aaron’s.” Charlie said. “She’d asked me about him coming over here so he didn't have to deal with it.”

Jeremy signed again. “Is there something in the water? Miles, tell me I’m not going crazy here?” Miles looked blank but Charlie could see the faint frown lines around Bass’s eyes. “This little domestic situation you've got going here is so surreal it practically gets makes me want to throw back my head and howl. Granted, I know how odd it is since I know all your histories. But whatever phobias and issues you all have, it makes whatever you’re doing work. And if you can get the Patriots to buy it. . . .”

Miles rolled his eyes, looking annoyed with himself. “Fair enough. But what excuse do we give for being here. They’ll be suspicious if we’re just here because it’s usually the sort of function the average male runs and hides to avoid.”

“I’ll grant you that. It probably wouldn't have worked if I hadn't shown up. But I’m not the average male and trust me, I can sell my presence. As for you, you’re around because I want you to be and no reason you have to pretend to be otherwise. Our catering officer there has the perfect excuse. Can you teach me to quilt?” he asked Rachel.

“I’m probably not the best choice of a teacher.”

“I can,” Charlie said reluctantly. “But why do you want to learn?”

“There’s nothing like a group of women together to get talking and there’s nothing can get them talking so much as a gay man who’s trying to get them to help him perfect a domestic skill.”

“So are you?” Gene asked and Baker looked puzzled.

“Am I what?”

“Gay.”

“What’s it matter?” Baker asked.

“Because if I’m going to have my daughter’s brother-in-law’s boyfriend living here, then I want to time to get used to the idea.” From the glances that Gene was dividing between Baker, Miles and Rachel, Charlie understood the concern in her grandfathers voice had very little to do with him caring about Miles’ sexual preferences other than being worried about how Rachel would feel.

“He’s not gay,” Rachel said quietly. She met Baker’s gaze and it was he who eventually looked away. “Though I wouldn't call him straight either. To be either -- or bi -- you’d have to actually use sex as something as a weapon to be aimed at turning others. I admit, I can’t say for sure how he’s used his body, but he clearly has never let anyone ever touch his heart.”

Baker practically appeared to be gloating; “Now there’s the Rachel I remember. I knew you couldn't have stopped thinking altogether. Funny, how you were one of the few people to ever figure that out. I’m not saying, if I ever meet that one person I truly cannot be without, I’d be willing to let someone close enough. But until then, it’s such a useful tool, to confuse, shock, blind, manipulate.” He looked between Bass and Miles. “But that doesn't mean I never let people close. I value friendship. I always did.”

“So who are you loyal too these days, Jeremy?” Rachel asked. She was leaning forward, intent as a hunting cat. But Baker’s posture was no mouse, Charlie realized. He looked a little like the bird-of-prey that didn't know if it just wanted to fly off to avoid the confrontation or let the cat strike and then find what it had caught.

“Them.” If Baker was no mouse, Rachel was also no cat, and Charlie watched her mother studying him for long time. 

“I believe you,” Rachel sighed, tension running out of her muscles and she suddenly looked tired. “This is it, isn't it? It’s starting?” 

It took Charlie a moment to realize what her mother meant and she asked, “Isn't it what you wanted? To stop them from doing what Randall did to everyone else?”

Rachel nodded. “It is. But it’s been a pleasant interlude. Pretending we were just an ordinary family trying to live our lives. Even if we were pulling bullets out of fish guts.”

Baker looked slightly disturbed, glancing around the table. “Fish guts? And you all wonder why I ask you to teach me to quilt instead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to minstorai for the line "Mathesoned his way out" and the suggestion that Baker himself was the one to fire the shot that Bass heard in 1x17.
> 
> I am having so much fun writing Baker, but it's also hard because it is so easy to make him too clever. Right now he has a fresh perspective on the illusion the Matheson family has been maintaining for nearly a month now (I haven't done an exact day count yet, since Charlie and Bass arrived, but I think that it's right around the 30 day mark, and at least 20 days since Charlie and Bass starting having sex. As an outsider, he's in a good position to critique their tactics and make suggestions.
> 
> But I can't make this too easy and he's going to have to be a human, even if he is an unusually astute one. I have decided I really don't want to answer what his sexual preference is. He chooses to use it as an additional weapon and he thinks of Miles and Monroe as the men who saved his life. He understands he has a close friendship with both of them but he doesn't mean the same thing to them that they mean to each other. Which isn't to say he isn't above trying to make other people -- or them -- uncomfortable. I see him as someone who has perfected the art of seduction, even if he doesn't go as far as consummation. He'll use the skill a lot to get intel and he'll succeed at times because he can get someone so off balance they stop thinking.
> 
> But for all that, there is a nice streak running through him that is his weakness. He's loyal and honest with his friends and that's going to hopefully be what saves him from being a sycophant.
> 
> This is one of my shortest chapters since 1 and 2 (which I probably will combine when I'm finished writing the whole story) but I wanted to get something posted to transition from Patriot Headquarters to Baker's introduction to the Matheson family domestic situation. I very well may end up combining it with whatever I come up with for Chapter 13 eventually just because it is so short. But I wanted to get what I had so far posted because it may be a few days before I get anything else up. I have about 10 pages left that I had hand-written before I am done with everything I have written so far but it will take some major re-write to get it to fit since I switched up the order of events and the last few chapters have been new writing.


	13. Chapter 13

Jeremy helped them spend the next two days moving the furniture from the living room and front room into the attics, the parlor and the sewing room so there was enough room to set up two quilt frames in the living room and one in the front room near the staircase. Miles took the french doors that normally connected the two rooms and stored them in Gene's surgery so it was easy to see and converse between the two rooms. The only place to possibly fit the fourth frame would be on the lawn or in dining room but Cynthia decided she didn't want to take a risk on the weather being bad and that they needed to have a place to eat where they wouldn't risk getting food on the quilts.

Cynthia brought the quilts over the night before and she taught Jeremy and Rachel how to stretch the backing, batting and tops across the frames. They set the wild goose quilt in the front room. She fretted about it getting in the way of the stairs but Charlie assured her nearly everyone used the back staircase closer to the kitchen anyway. Cynthia picked one of the patchwork quilts to tie rather than quilt, which would mean it could be off the frame in an hour or two and the silk squares -- Charlie couldn't think of them as polyester, no matter if that was what it really was -- could go on to be quilted while a few people worked on the edges of the tied patchworks. Listening to her plan the day, Charlie felt a new admiration for Cynthia. The tactics of a quilting were different than a battle but the contingency planning and logistics had definite parallels.

Aaron had come to help Cynthia wrangle the boxes of tops and backing and the large bales of cotton batting but he wandered over to Charlie watching them work on the frames. He glanced over at Jeremy a few times as he flirted with Rachel and Cynthia both. "So that's the Captain Baker who told you about Miles?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. I forgot that all the times I'd seen him you weren't with me. That's him." She'd caught glimpses of Jeremy briefly, when they'd been Monroe's captives in Philadelphia and again in Indiana when he'd dragged Monroe from Emma's body. 

"Do I need to be worried?" he asked as Jeremy bent close to Cynthia and said something that made her laugh.

"No. He just does that. Tomorrow he'll be flirting with everyone but mostly with Miles. They're pretending to be lovers."

Aaron gaped. "Um, how does that. . .Miles lets him? I didn't think he did relationships?"

Charlie shrugged. "It was kind of a surprise to me too. Captain Baker started flirting with Miles in Truman's office and Miles flirted back and I was starting to wonder what the heck was going on because if Miles was gay, I'd have thought it was with Monroe. But Bass said it never happened. Turns out it was the easiest way for Captain Baker to distract Truman from thinking about Monroe, and it really actually worked. And I can't tell when Captain Baker is acting and when he'd being serious because everything he says seems to have a purpose to it." She ran out of air but she felt better for having vented her confusion to someone who also seemed confused by the triangle that Jeremy, Miles and Bass seemed completely comfortable with.

They turned to watch Miles walk up to Cynthia and Jeremy and put his hand -- seemingly casually, on Jeremy's arm. Aaron blinked rapidly. "Um, Charlie. Not that it's any of my business. But are you sure they're acting?"

She was just starting to wonder the same thing when she saw Captain Bailey in the doorway, Bass just behind her. "Hey, Jeremy," Bass called from the hall. "You've got a visitor." Miles stepped away to talk to Rachel as Jeremy sighed, leaned in to whisper in Cynthia's ear and walk over to the door.

"Captain Bailey. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Director Truman wants to know if you're available for a consultation. Just a bit of fact-finding he wants to explore."

"As the Director has so kindly accommodated my schedule, of course. Let me grab my coat. Will we be late?"

Carissa glanced over at Charlie and Aaron, nodding politely. "Not sure. Does it matter?"

Jeremy shrugged, then looked over at Miles. "Depends on what time we're back, I guess. I have a very strict bedtime routine."

He jogged upstairs and Carissa moved around the room, looking at the quilt tops. "This will be interesting," she said to no one in particular. "I've never done one of these before."

"They can be fun," Charlie said, and Carissa shot her a grateful smile. "Lots of gossip. Lots of giggling."

"About the other morning. I hope you can --"

"Look, I get it," Charlie cut her off. "You were doing your job. But you have to understand, after Monroe's guys came into my village, shot my father and dragged off my brother, I don't deal well with people coming for my loved ones, no matter how good their reasons."

Carissa looked startled. "I never thought about that. I'm so sorry. From how upset you were, even though you were trying so hard not to show it, I really thought you were lying. It never even occurred to me it was just flashbacks. Sorry, I guess the term 'just flashbacks' sounds insulting. I didn't mean it that way."

Aaron smiled, hand moving to grip Charlie's fingers. "So what made you think he was Monroe?"

Carissa signed. "I'm still getting a vibe from Willoughby I can't explain. It was a long shot but finding out we had Captain Baker on board was too good a chance to be wasted." 

"Vibe?" Aaron asked again.

"Something doesn't make sense here. And I don't know what it is." She smiled and shrugged. "But that's besides the point. Anyway, Charlie, if it'll be too awkward, I can find an excuse to not be here tomorrow."

"No, it'll be okay. Like I said, you were doing your job. And," Charlie paused. "You've got to remember, I spent over a year fighting against him. I take it for granted sometimes that everyone knows as much as I do what he looks like."

They smiled at each other and Cynthia walked up. "Hey, Carissa. So I hear you're stealing my assistant? Jeremy has been a huge help getting everything set up." She leaned closer to them. "He actually said he might be here tomorrow to help. Which could be hilarious. Aaron has been dreading this for days."

Aaron shrugged. "Because who doesn't love having twenty women in their living room with scissors and needles. Nothing can go wrong there?"

Carissa snorted and even Cynthia smiled. "Are you going to come over and keep Miles and James company?" Charlie asked and Aaron looked around. 

"I was actually going to see if they wanted to come over to my house tomorrow. But I understand Captain Baker is reluctant to let Miles out of his sight. Which I find a little insecure. Because clearly, Miles and I were totally into each other on the entire trip from Chicago to Philadelphia and had out little love nest the entire time we were working with the Rebels. He and Nora and I used to do threesomes every night. Um, not."

By the end, Charlie had the back of her right hand pressed to her mouth and her left hand cradled her abs that were starting to hurt from laughing. Cynthia had her head thrown back and even Carissa had a hand to her side.

"What's so funny?" Jeremy asked from behind them and they all three jumped. 

He twirled a jacket that was clearly old Militia issue and Carissa pointed at it. "Is that a good idea?"

"What, this? Well, technically I suppose you could say General Monroe ordering my execution would be a request for resignation but he never actually gave the order, so technically I'd still be a member of the Militia. . .if they still existed. Besides, I like this jacket. It's comfortable, fits and bends in all the right places. Why would I let somebody like Monroe prevent me from enjoying it? Shall we?"

They walked out of the room and Aaron looked over at Charlie. "So, do I want to know?"

Cynthia looked at them both for a moment then pointedly walked over to fuss with the frames on one of the quilts. "You probably don't," Charlie admitted. She glanced out the window to make sure she could actually see Carissa and Jeremy walking away from the house before continuing. "They have a plan but they're not letting me in on it on the theory I'm better at selling the point when I'm an innocent." Aaron looked a little flustered at that and she signed. "Don't tell me you think so too?"

"That them keeping you in the dark is a good thing? No. That you're a terrible liar?" He stopped talking and shrugged. "Well, I'm sorry, but the fact you're not just another soulless denizen of the un-dead has always been one of my favorite things about you."

She smiled, remembering when Miles told her being unusual was not an insult. "Well, if I see you tomorrow, great. If not, depending on how bad things get, maybe I'll be the one making a break for it."

Aaron glanced over to where Cynthia was adjusting a frame, Miles holding a corner of one of the patchwork quilts for her. "Captain Baker trying to convince a room full of Patriot wives that he and Miles are lovers, Miles playing along, you and Rachel sewing and Monroe. . .doing whatever the hell Monroe does. That. . .I might almost stop by to see. Speaking of Monroe, where is he?"

"Not sure. He usually tries not to be around Miles and Jeremy when there are other people here because sometimes the three of them are just a little too comfortable; like you can tell they've all known each other a long time."

"Are you okay with that?"

The questions surprised her and she frowned. "What? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Them not including you in whatever plan this is they're coming up with. That's got to be tough."

"It's annoying, but I see their point. And they were already doing it before Jeremy showed up so it's not anything I haven't had to deal with for a while. They promise, when the time is right, I'll get in on it."

She hadn't thought about it, but it was annoying, she realized. She did have to admit, Miles was right when he said she didn't lie well but a part of her also felt like he was implying he had Bass and Jeremy again and didn't need her. At least, she decided, they were honest about wanting to keep her out of it for now and weren't lying to her or avoiding her.

"Um, Charlie?" Aaron's face and voice changed, clearly reluctant to be talking and she sighed. t was bound to have come eventually, she thought.

"Go ahead and say it."

"So this thing with Monroe? It's real now?"

She shrugged. "It's. . .I don't know what it is. But it's not going away anytime soon, if that's what you're asking."

She was surprised when he didn't reply but pulled her into a hug instead. She didn't resist the embrace and when he stepped back they both had tears in their eyes.

"Just.. . .but if you ever need someone to. . .if he ever. . . ."

"Aaron, are you offering to beat up Sebastian Monroe for me?" 

"Well, yes. I have no idea how I'd do it. But if you ever want it done."

She laughed, reaching on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He patted her on the shoulder. "Think he'd kill me or just maim me and leave me as an example for others?"

"No telling. But it's still one of the sweetest things anyone has said to me in a long time."

 

The next morning was too warm, even not long after dawn, and Charlie slid out of bed because the sticky heat between her and Bass was making her skin crawl. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. She shoved her pillow under his arm and he snuggled into it without waking, which was a relief. She'd turned him down for sex for the last two nights and he was starting to get jittery. Everything touching her was irritating in the last few days, and she was a little worried but she told herself it was no doubt something do with her hormones flaring up one last time as her period was finishing. It would pass in another day or so, she was sure, and she'd probably be as desperate for human touch as she was desperate to avoid it now. She just had to keep from meeting his gaze to not see the hurt looks between now and then.

Baker was in the kitchen already when she walked down the stairs and he handed her a glass of water without her even asking. "My balls are already sweating," he grumbled. "How much longer are we going to have to stay in this benighted place?"

"Ask Miles. Tell him about your balls, too."

He laughed. "I do tend to TMI early in the morning." At her quizzical look he groaned. "Too Much Information." 

She shrugged, dismissing to the same corner of her brain she saved for margarine and the day Bass had tried to explain why the letters L-O-L could actually be funny just on their own. 

"So what gets you up this early?" he asked and she took a drink of water to give her a moment to think.

"Lots to do today."

"Bullshit. Until Cynthia shows up with whatever she's been baking -- I particularly want to try the blueberry turnovers -- there isn't really anything we can do. So tell Uncle Jeremy, what's the trouble between you and Bass?"

"You're not my Uncle." It sounded sharper than she'd intended.

He groaned. "It's a phrase. Just think of it like TMI. . .something you don't take seriously." After a second he started to laugh. "You didn't think I was implying Miles and I were actually. . ." he went off on another bout of laughter, then stopped when she didn't laugh with him. "Damn, you're as twitchy about him as Monroe is, aren't you. How the hell does he do it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." It was suppose to be frosty dignity but even she heard the pathetic quaver in her voice and he refilled both their water glasses."

"Hydrate. We're both going to need it by the end of today. Okay, Baby Matheson, let me break it down for you. . .and don't interrupt till I'm done because I'm only running this by you once. It's embarrassing. You lost all your family and bonded with Miles, who became everything in your whole entire world. So now you're sleeping with the only person in the whole entire world who won't consider Miles a third wheel in your relationship and try to move you away from him just to get some space. But even on some level you're wondering if its healthy and its starting to freak you out just a little because you're thinking you should walk away just to prove you're not that twisted." He looked at her expectantly, which she assumed was her cue to ask questions. 

"You think I should leave?"

"I think you think you should leave. Now, granted, I don't know you well enough if its because you really need to or if you just don't think its fair that you're happy. Maybe you think its not fair that he's happy." He tilted his head. "I do kind of get the feeling you're not going anywhere, you're just going to keep beating yourself up about it inside." He grinned at the look she gave him. "Hey, I may not know you well, but I know Miles and Bass really damn well. And forgive me for bringing up painful memories but I'm also more than passingly familiar with Rachel, for all that most of our interactions were limited to a bi-monthly visit to Boston to ensure she wasn't able access anything too dangerous for her nefarious plots."

"How come you never told Miles she was alive?"

"I didn't get let into the club on that one until after he'd left the Militia. And since the whole point to keeping her around was to try to get the power back on, I didn't really feel inclined to share it when Miles was using me as bargaining chip to save the Rebels. What I've been meaning to ask her is why, in the nine or so years Miles and Monroe combined had her that she didn't do anything but build amplifiers that handed power specifically to Monroe? Then, when she escaped, she hiked all the way to Colorado and tried to turn the whole damn thing back on. I mean, why didn't she do that when he had her? She could have lied and said she was giving it just to him but then flipped the whole world back on."

"I don't totally understand it, but the power being off was the only thing keeping my brother alive."

Baker looked guilty. "Oh. Sorry. Didn't mean to bring that up."

"It's okay. I guess if you didn't know about it, everything Mom did really seemed totally senseless."

He snorted. "You have no idea. But back to you and Bass and Miles. I've known Miles long enough to know his facial expressions and you have some of the same ones, and the fact that something's bugging you. . .well, hanging a sign would be redundant but at least it would open the topic for discussion."

"You think Bass knows something's upsetting me."

He sipped his water and topped off her glass. "If I quote a few passages -- so to speak -- from the Book of Miles, Monroe has the whole thing memorized. Including the 'I don't want to talk about it' vibe you've had going since the day I moved into your old room. By the way, was it the fact I took it over and you don't have an escape route any more?"

She frowned. "I'd already moved out of that room."

"People can move in together and move back out again. Harder to do when you've burned your metaphorical bridges and given up your room. Granted, the attic isn't so bad. And your grandmother's old sewing room would do in a pinch."

"Is there a part of this house you've not explored?"

"Nope. But am I getting any of this right or am I just paranoid for nothing."

"Paranoid?"

He snorted. "If you're leaving Bass I want to have enough chance to get as far away from ground zero as humanly possible."

"So you think I should stay to save the world from him again?" She couldn't help the bitterness in her tone, even if she hated it.

"No." His voice was slow and reluctant. "I'm not one for believing we owe any other human being more than we can give them without giving up ourselves. But I watched him hit bottom already once. So like I said, either shoot him in the head or give me a chance to get the hell out out of here because I can't handle watching it again."

She wasn't sure she trusted him and was even less sure that she liked him but the look he was giving her was familiar. He loved Miles and Bass both, she realized. Not like they loved each other, but like a friend who wanted the best for them.

She felt herself tearing up and cursed silently because her nose was probably already turning red. "I. . .I can't leave him," she choked out. "I. . .want to so bad some days. But I can't. Because. . . ." There was no good because, she realized. And that, perhaps more than anything was what was twisting her stomach in the dark, even as she craved the feeling of him wrapped around her. Her own needs didn't matter, had never mattered, compared to Danny's. The thought made her shake and he grabbed her hand to steady it before she spilled water all over herself. "I. . .I can't," she whispered and was surprised by his tender smile where she had expected sarcasm.

"Well then stop feeling guilty and enjoy it. Be the first Matheson who doesn't make a martyr of their needs over some cosmic sense of justice."

Miles had done it, Charlie mused, over creating the Militia to try to help things after the Blackout. Rachel did it, over causing the blackout to save Danny. And she did it. On needing Miles, Monroe and Rachel after what they had done. About what she had done trying to save Danny.

"How did a tax agent get so insightful?"

"I'd say it was because I took a lot of psych electives in college but really, it was because all the hot broken ones were psych majors. I got laid more times after study groups than any other time in my life and really didn't pay much attention in class other than what was testable. No, it's because I've spent the better part of a decade trailing after Miles and Bass and I kind of know their issues inside and out. And you. . .sorry, but you're just like both of them." His sympathetic look twisted into the familiar snarky mask that she wasn't sure was a mask as much his own armor. "Sure you're not really Miles' daughter." She was about reply with her weary reassurance from Rachel that Miles was actually her uncle and Ben was her father when he took a sip of water and added blandly. "It would explain why Bass was so hung up on Miles, if they'd secretly been part of some government experiment on male pregnancy and Bass was really your Mom."

He looked so honestly a combination of curious and serious at the same time that she nearly snorted her drink of water out her nose and he patted her on the back as she laughed. When she was finally able to breath he was laughing with her and she handed him back her empty glass. "Give me another one of those. I think you're right. We'll need it before the end of the day."

A quick look at the clock made her realize it was too late to sneak back to bed for a quick snuggle. Despite Jeremy's comments there really was a lot still left to be done. It hadn't been hormones, she realized, though they had been a convenient excuse. The fact the timing had exactly coincided with his arrival -- and probably the blatant reminder of the Militia -- had entirely escaped her attention. But apparently not his, she noticed. 

 

Bass actually got up early enough to boil eggs for breakfast before Cynthia arrived. "Go on," he urged. "Everyone get your protein for the day. You'll be needing it."

"I can think of far better ways to get protein," Jeremy grumbled. "Why the hell did I let you get me up this early again?" He winked in Charlie's direction before she could remind him he'd been up even before she had. Whether it was a mask or armor, it was firmly in place.

Gene rolled his eyes at the quip, Miles looked resigned and Rachel . . .to Charlie's shock, Rachel actually looked like she was trying to hide a smile. Charlie took the two eggs Bass had already peeled for her and lifted herself up to kiss him on the cheek. He looked surprised, but the smile she'd not seen that morning flashed out and she felt a matching one. To hell with her relatives, she decided, even if the kitchen was full of them. She pulled him against her and kissed him full on the mouth and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hard against him.

"Hey, you two," Baker groaned. "Keep it PG please. Or take it upstairs. I really don't want to see it." But his mask didn't conceal his eyes, she realized, and the bored smirk didn't quite hide the his satisfaction to see Bass looking so happy.

Bass didn't let her go immediately. She had known he'd been giving her space but she hadn't thought how much her brushing him off would have triggered his own fear of being alone. When he did step away she kept a hand on his arm. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Just eat breakfast so I can wash the plates. Hey," he snapped as Jeremy moved to throw his eggshells into the garbage. "Over there, with the compost. I give those back to the hens."

"Get a grip, Bass," Jeremy said. "We are not actually farmers."

"Well as long as we're pretending to be, no reason we can't do a good job at it. Calcium's important to keep a hen or else they get thin shelled eggs, which break while they're setting; or soft shell which can prolapse them. And then you're out a good layer."

"I didn't thing you had actually been listening to me," Gene said, standing and taking Jeremy's plate away from him and putting the shells in the bin he kept reserved for the chickens. "And yet, I hear my own words back practically verbatim."

"Just because I made comments about nasty, stinky hens doesn't mean I wasn't listening. I just had to think about it for a while."

"Bass Monroe, chicken crusader?" Rachel said quietly as she stood and walked over to the chicken bucket, deliberately dumping her shells with a pointed glance at Bass.

"Okay," Miles sighed, "Get the last of it out, all of you. But then can we get back to the business of the day."

"Miles, the business of the day is quilting," Gene said, but Charlie could see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

"I know that, Gene. But we can't all be sniping at each other like we've been best friends for years. So if they can get the last of it out of their systems while we're still alone here --"

"No one is ever alone here," Bass commented; quiet but loud enough for everyone to hear clearly.

"Okay," Miles admitted. "We're packed in here like sardines. We know this. Tempers are bound to get a little strung. But now is not the day to deal with that. So lets get all the bitching out while there's no one else around."

Bass signed, leaning his head over to rest his cheek on the top of Charlie's head. "No, I think I'm done." He breathed in deeply, nose in her hair and she wondered how tightly wound she'd gotten him, between his worry she was rejecting him and -- according to Baker at least -- signals that none of it was open for debate. And how much of this was him letting off tension now that he wasn't afraid anymore?

"Good. Because only one of us can be a drama queen at a time and it's my turn," Miles grumbled.

"Nice try," Jeremy quipped. "I'm the designated drama queen. It's my job title right now."

"Not a chance. You get it most of the time, it's my turn now."

Jeremy shrugged. "Fine. But if you're being the drama queen, you get to wear the dress. Again."

Rather to her surprise, Bass slapped a hand over his mouth and Miles looked a combination of embarrassed, annoyed and amused at the same time."

"Oh hell," Gene said. "I have a feeling there's a story here."

Miles sighed. "Fine. It wasn't long after we were trying to set up the Militia -- not that we called it the Militia in those days; hadn't even dreamed up the name Monroe Republic either. We were fighting a local warlord named Jedediah Bradley."

"Up till then I never knew people still named their kids Jedediah," Baker commented. Miles shot him a dirty look and he held up his hands in a surrender gesture.

"Ignoring Captain Prejudice over there." That won snorts from Jeremy, Rachel and Bass. "Bradley had managed to capture an ammo depot. Someone had to lead the raid and it was practically a suicide mission so we figured we'd do better with a distraction. So. . . ."

"So you put on a dress and tried to seduce a guard?" Rachel asked, sounding incredulous.

"Do I look like someone would make a believable woman, even if I plucked my eyebrows. Nope, we drew straws. Bass won, which meant he got to lead the raid. Jeremy and I over there found ourselves the most hideous sequined dresses and feathered things we could unearth and staged a drag show. Billed ourselves as the 'Drama Queens," famed dancing 'sisters' to the Sultan of Dubai. Don't laugh, we almost all got ourselves killed."

"Yeah," Bass said, wiping his eyes. "But the sight of you trying to run in heels and then finally taking them off and throwing them at Bradley's guys is still burned in my memory."

"Anyway," Miles finished. "We took over the depot, Bradley died in the fighting and most of his surviving guys just disappeared. We debated trying to find them and offering them amnesty if they'd join us but we eventually decided just to ignore them because I'm not sure they could have taken me seriously after seeing me in fishnets. And we also decided that, no matter how bad the situation, we had a reputation to maintain and couldn't play tricks like that again. Which was probably when we started taking ourselves too seriously."

"And now we're back," Baker laughed. "The famed dancing 'sisters' to the Sultan of Dubai."

"I think my mother might have had something sequined," Rachel deadpanned. "If either of you want to borrow it?" Miles gave her a dirty look. 

"Very funny, Rachel." Bass said. "But trust me, short of Patriots overrunning the house, none of us ever want to see that again. It was sort of like Priscilla: Queen of the Desert from hell. The worst part was since Miles was definitely Tige, and Jeremy was clearly Bernadette that defaulted me to Adam."

It meant nothing to Charlie but Gene started laughing. Miles even looked slightly more cheered. "Okay," he said. "Everyone --" he broke off as Jeremy hit his elbow on the sink trying to set his dish down and cursed while Bass glared at him.

"I told you to hand it to me, dumb ass."

"No you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"I'm not deaf and your lips weren't moving so unless you've morphed into the world's shittiest ventriloquist, I beg to differ."

"It's called hand and arm signals and I held out my hand because clearly, there was no room here."

"Why," Miles asked, not looking like he was addressing anyone in particular, "do I even bother."

"Well if its called hand and arm signals, why'd you just use your hand and not your arm?"

Rachel was the first one to start laughing, Jeremy just after her. Bass grinned and eventually even Miles shook his head, "Okay, if I stop trying to pep-talk will you two stop acting like five year olds?"

Jeremy and Bass exchanged the exact same look and Miles grimaced but the smile had moved from his mouth to his eyes. "Just like," Jeremy said, "old times."

Bass grimaced, face abruptly going serious. "Oh hell, don't say that."

"Well," Jeremy said. "At least if we re-make the Republic, we can make Miles be President this time."

"Why me," Miles griped but he clearly was allowing them to bait him willingly.

"Cuz he was a disaster." Jeremy signed. "And if we elected me, we'd just have to redo the brand." He paused, the smile genuine but from the look of it Charlie could tell he'd thought of something horrible. "Though, I guess I could just change my last name to Stevens. Put the S right above the M. Would an 'and' symbol between them be too much?" Miles, Bass, Gene and Rachel all turned to stare at him wide-eyed, as if they couldn't decide it he was joking or not.

"I don't get it," Charlie said after a minute.

All four of them swiveled their heads to her, as if she were a compass point they were tracking; all four of them yelling "Good!" at the exact same time as Jeremy started laughing so hard he slid weakly down the counter, clutching his side and his sore elbow both.

 

Cynthia showed up about an hour later, borrowed wagon packed with trays of baked goods she'd clearly been working on for a few days. Monroe had volunteered to make the luncheon of venison salad sandwiches while the quilters worked so Miles and Jeremy helped her lay out the cakes and pastries in the dining room. Charlie wasn't sure if the breeze had picked up or if she was just feeling less jumpy in her own skin but while it was still warm, it wasn't as unbearable as it had been earlier. She assisted by carrying in buckets of water to fill pitchers scattered around the dining room, the front room and the living room. 

Since there wasn't room for too many wagons or horses, Cynthia took the wagon back to town to pick up some of the quilters who lived close. Marybeth and two of her neighbors were the first to arrive and Rachel greeted them. The heat had flushed her slightly, her blue eyes sparkling. She was playing a part, Charlie realized, but watching her mother, she looked so much more alive than she usually did. She took for granted how much Rachel constantly repressed herself and it made her think back to Jeremy's comment about being the first Matheson not to make a martyr of their own happiness. 

Charlie greeted Marybeth and got introduced to her two neighbors, pointing out the pastries, the pitchers of cold water and the direction of the outhouse. She was just finishing that when Emily came bustling in, a square thick-paper box about the size of a cigar box but much deeper. 

"Charlie, be a dear and put this with everything else, would you. Now, I know Cynthia has been baking like a fiend and I don't want to imply she's anything other than amazing. But this came in to the shop this morning and I couldn't resist snitching it out. Kyle will be miffed when he figures out I didn't sell it. But if we can't cheat every once in a while, I don't know what the point of being the grocer really is. Two pounds of chocolate truffles. Granted, its just butter and sugar creamed together with chocolate and not like they used to sell before the blackout but they're still pretty fantastic. And how often do we get chocolate at all anymore. I kept this hidden the entire ride, can you sneak it in for me. She's bound to know I was the one who brought it but everyone else will think she got them herself. " She handed over the box and Charlie carried it into the dining room and found a spot where it was discreetly tucked between a sugar-frosted white cake and a tray of turnovers. 

After a moment she picked one and carried it to the kitchen where Bass was slicing onions. He glanced up at her, face lighting and the familiar flash of guilt over being glad to see him was replaced with guilt on brushing him off so firmly for the last few days. It was still guilt, but she wondered if Jeremy would say at least it was making progress. 

"You're staring." he said, not looking up from his chopping. 

"Sorry." She walked up to him and held the chocolate to his mouth. "Here."

He took the candy, moving his lips over her fingers and she was pretty sure his purr had very little to do with the chocolate. She kissed him deeply, tasting the last of the flavors in his mouth and he dropped the knife on the counter to wrap his arms around her, though he kept his hands held out, probably to keep onion juice from her shirt. "Charlotte," he whispered and she leaned against his chest, relaxing into the feel of his heartbeat. "I. . ." He trailed off and kissed her on the top of her head. "Sorry. I hate being clingy. But I've been so worried you've been pissed at me the last few days."

"I've been pissed at the world the last few days. You were just the only one I was able to hurt. I'm sorry. I'll try not to do that, next month. But no promises." She thought of confessing Jeremy's insight but decided he probably had enough guilt of his own she didn't need to be pushing hers off on him as well. It would need to come out someday, but today was probably not the best.

"Next time go full-on active aggressive on me. The passive stuff makes me a little crazy. I can handle you yelling at me. Being ignored. That's harder. But if I'm getting on your nerves don't be afraid to tell me so. I get that we don't get much space these days."

"Was that what the whole thing this morning was about?" Rachel had eventually relented and explained to her what S&M stood for and she'd wanted to be shocked but she'd laughed too hard and it had ruined the effect.

"Nah, that was us blowing off a little steam by making Miles crazy. When he gets like that you just have to keep on him till he cracks and sees how ridiculous he's being. He always did take things so serious. Which can be good, but it's also likely to give him ulcers someday if he doesn't stop." He leaned in to kiss her again. "Helps keep me sane too."

He groaned as they heard voices raising in the front hallway, Cynthia and Rachel's raising to offer directions. He pressed himself in for one last, bone melting kiss before the kitchen door opened and Carissa jerked back, looking guilt.

"Oh hell. I'm so sorry. Damn it, do you two have an exhibition streak or can you really just not keep your hands off each other for five minutes together?"

"You might consider, Captain Bailey," Bass said, his voice clipped and formal. "That you have the world's WORST timing. At least where I'm concerned." He paused and Charlie could see the panic starting to flicker in Carissa's eyes when he grinned at her. "You might as well come on in. I'm not going to bite, you know, even if you do manage to inadvertently blue-ball me on a regular basis."

She winced, stepping into the kitchen, holding up a jar filled with some kind of light brown paste. "I do come bearing gifts of apology."

"Hmm, presents." He stepped over to take the jar from her. "Is this. . .peanut butter?"

"The one and same. Am I forgiven. For the blue-balling and the rather pointless pseudo-arrest a few days ago."

"Wasn't exactly pointless. Everyone has been so discombobulated about having Jeremy in the house with how he and Miles are carrying on I'm suddenly the favored-guest. Rachel has completely forgotten to look like she's planning to knife me in my sleep."

"If she walks in on you two making out in the kitchen I'm a little more sympathetic to her," Carissa said, her voice dry.

"Yeah," Charlie commented. "But now that she's walked in on Miles and Jeremy making out in the kitchen, we're getting a little more leniency."

Carissa gaped, then clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, that's priceless. That really is." After a moment she sighed. "Peace? And promise no biting."

Monroe flashed his grin, the one that made Charlie wonder what he was really thinking. "Promise. At least that I won'd bite you." He leaned in to kiss Charlie's ear then stood signing. "Ah hell."

The front door banged and suddenly the sounds of what had to be far more than 20 women reverberated through the house. "What the hell?" the Patriot Captain gasped.

Charlie signed. "Welcome to a quilting."

"Is that. . .normal? All that noise. How can they hear each other?"

"Oh trust me," Charlie said. "We could say something in here and if was appropriately juicy, it would get heard, noted and passed around Willoughby by this evening. Last chance to retreat."

Carissa looked for a moment like she was considering it but she squared her shoulder, face resolute. "I'm a Patriot. I don't run."

"We don't run," Bass intoned. "We fall back." They both looked at him and he shrugged. "What. It's a quote from a TV show."

"There's not really a difference," Carissa said.

"Trust me," Charlie said. "First real battle you're in, you'll learn there;s a huge difference. But it's my house. I'm kind of stuck here without any other option. Come on, let's get this over with."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Dark Angel fans out there might recognize the line "We don't run, we fall back." Miles and Bass would have been in high school when Dark Angel would have aired (2000-2002) and I can see that being the sort of show they'd have liked. The line was from the show's final episode, "Freak Nation" where a group of Transgender are trying to get to a safe location and someone backs into their vehicle. The guys that hit them are part of the hate groups and a brief confrontation ensues but the "humans" eventually decide to flee and Mole, who appears amphibious comments that at least ordinaries know when to run. One of his comrades suggests they should run themselves and Mole announces, We don't run, we fall back. I'm not using quote marks on purpose because its been a few years since I've watched it and I couldn't find quotes for it on the internet. Somewhere I have the DVDs and I will have to drag them back out and watch them but since Bass wouldn't have seen it in even longer, I figure a slight misquote is probably forgivable.
> 
> I was going to have this chapter have the entire quilting but the day is going to be a VERY long one for most everyone who lives in the house and a few who don't and it was already at 16 pages, which is about 7 pages longer than Chapter 12 (granted, 12 was a short chapter). But we have a long way to go and there was a natural breaking point so I decided to call it good, post and start again from here.
> 
> The conversations get both a little personal and a little silly. I didn't mean to go so far out there with a few things but I had put in one of the notes or comments that Baker was going to try to get Miles into a dress so I wrote that whole incident based off that. . .but now I can't find it and I'm not sure if I deleted it out or now. But by then that scene was written and I couldn't help putting it in. It probably would have been one of the last really silly things Miles, Bass and Jeremy did before things started getting really serious. It also gives them an excuse to keep clowning around a little now. They're doing in on purpose to try to avoid the same mistakes. Though they are a lot older, so they're mostly just arguing with each other to get each other to laugh. 
> 
> Despite the mostly-irreverent tone this chapter takes, I think I really like it. Everyone is a lot more accepting of each other by the time it's done and that's going to be important later on. Also, Captain Bailey turns into someone pretty important (I think it's pretty obvious by now she's the Patriot Miles is planning on trying to flip) and I was worried that Chapter 11 had damaged any chance of that because everyone was pretty irritated with each other, but I think this has managed to smooth it down. Her ego was bruised when it turned out she was wrong but she's gotten over it and has accepted Charlie's explanation for why everyone was so stressed, even more than a normal arrest, even though they were pretending they weren't.
> 
> Next up, more quilting, Jeremy going completely over the top to charm everyone and I'm hoping we can actually get into the setting for the flip. But we've been a chapter away from that for about five chapters now so no promises.
> 
> Finally, I'd be totally remiss if I didn't quote one of my biggest inspirations while working on this chapter. Thank you, allclassical.org for the amazing music produced commercial free 24/7. Anyone who likes classical music should check it out. They play music of all kinds, from major works to 5 minute blurbs from all that remains of a crumbling parchment written by 12th century monks. I have written a lot of this listening to classic rock but this whole chapter was totally classical music. That might seem odd since it's one of the most sarcastic/humorous chapters so far -- at least in my opinion; a testament to Jeremy Baker who has gone a long way towards driving the plot (though I do still have to be careful not to lean to heavily on him or else it will get old fast) -- but anyone who has ever listened to the Lieutenant Kijé suites by Sergei Prokofiev will probably understand. Or March for the Love of Three Oranges (also by Prokofiev. . .I swear that really is the title). And, of course, both Ravel's Bolero and Carl Orff's Carmina Burana (and I mean all 24 cantatas, not just O Fortuna, which EVERYONE knows - if you don't believe me, look it up. You've heard it. Even if you've never knew its name. They weren't all on allclassical today (I did have to break out the ipod for some of them), but that's where I've heard them. Besides, there's nothing like listening to Ravel in one ear and a Russian philharmonic/choir singing The First Noel (in Russia) at the same time. Maybe that explains a little but more about this chapter than I thought.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it finally happened. I've been expecting it and this is probably not the first time (in fact, I know it’s not). Posting this chapter-by-chapter I was bound to have something that I need to change but it’s already been posted. So here it goes. In Chapter 13 where I said they used the living room and the parlor for the quilt frames: Well, nix that. They’re going to use the living room (the room where they had Jessica’s bed in Love Story) and the hallway with the staircase you seen in the background though those doors. That’s an area large enough to set up the quilt frames and if they take off those french doors then it would be easy to see/move/converse between the rooms. I’ll need to go back and fix Chapter 13 but for now, here’s why they've changed locations. NOTE: I also need to adjust my seasons this is occurring. It’s got to be close to the beginning of December and I've been writing this as if it were August. Granted, it’s Texas, so they've have a pretty long growing season and hot/humid for a while (notice all the characters not wearing jackets on the show) but I need to make a few minor tweaks to make that more consistent with what’s being aired.

Charlie was surprised when she led Carissa into the living room that there were only 19 women –- including herself -- between the two rooms. She had been expecting more, just based on the amount of noise they were making. Everyone was still milling around, admiring the quilt tops. Rachel was helping everyone settle their bags around the folding chairs Cynthia had brought from the church. Cynthia was standing at a table, accepting pairs of scissors and marking names on pale strips of cloth that she tied to the handles.

Another group of women entered and Charlie recognized Nellie. The future bride’s head wasn't quite to Charlie’s shoulder and she doubted the girl weighted over 100 pounds. “Wow,” Carissa commented. “She’s pocket sized. Makes me feel like a lumbering oaf.”

Privately Charlie agreed with the Patriot. It wasn't just Nellie’s size. The girl was moving fluidly between people, chairs and frames to admire the quilts spread across them. There was something supple about her motions -- how she bent and swayed to get through nearly impossibly tight spaces without brushing against anyone – that Charlie envied. She wondered briefly if Nellie did any hunting or tracking because the movements seemed familiar, even if the girl seemed more adept at them. 

Nellie was nearly speechless at the blue and purples of the wild goose pattern but she admired the other two quilts set up as well. One of them was squares that had been angled to look like diamonds, The stripes were blue, green, purple and red with many different fabrics grouped by colors. The other patchwork quilt was also different fabrics, sorted by colors. There were blue octagons joined together like a honeycomb with small cream colored squares filling in the spaces between the octagons.

It must have been Cynthia’s teacher-skill at work, because she got everyone sorted around the quilts with a minimum of fuss. What was most impressive, Charlie noted, was that she also seemed to group people according to ability without offending anyone. The women around the wild goose quilt -- set up in the front room -- were probably most skilled. She directed Carissa and Rachel on the lengths of thread to cut and keep ready for any quilter who needed a new needle. There were eight women around the wild goose quilt, eight tying and seven working on the octagons. 

Charlie sorted herself into the group tying the diamond quilt. Cynthia, Charlie noticed, was at the other patchwork quilt with Nellie and Marybeth. The point of every diamond got a knot of blue cord and Carissa came over to watch them when she and Rachel had a dozen needles already threaded. 

Emily, who was also tying, gestured the Patriot Captain closer. “Go ahead and I’ll show you how if you want to tie. It’s not hard.” Emily gave her a quick demonstration on where to run the threads and how not to cut the cords too close to the ties.

“So,” one of the farmers asked - Charlie couldn't remember her name – but was pretty sure she was a fifteen minute wagon ride east, “did you never learn to quilt in Cuba?”

“Nope. We had a lifetime supply of green wool army blankets. And when I say lifetime, I’m not kidding. Those things looked no different the day we left Cuba than the day we arrived there.”

“Who made the uniforms?” Charlie asked.

Carissa shrugged. “They were there when we got there. An entire warehouse filled with them. I think they were probably for the Gitmo prisoners, which explains why they’re about the least inspiring or flattering ever. But they were there and we were in no position to be picky so we slapped the flags on them and called it a day. Fortunately as an intel officer, I usually get to wear civilians.” She was in a pair of pale gray slacks and a thin burgundy short-sleeved sweater. “This is actually kind of fun,” she said, sounding surprised.

They’d been working for about 15 minutes when Jeremy wandered in the door, apparently at random. He grinned and made a beeline for Cynthia, bending over to touch the quilt delicately, as if he’d never seen anything like it before. He was wearing the Monroe Militia uniform shirt and trousers but he’d replaced the jacket with a gray sweater vest she recognized as being one of Gene’s. It should have made him look either ridiculous or old but something about his enthusiastic cockiness made nearly every woman turn to look at him with approval.

Carissa, Charlie noticed, was also starting over, though she was trying to look like she was looking at the quilt. “So,” she asked, her voice not quite casual. “Did you actually catch him making out in the kitchen with Miles?”

“He implied we did. You know that ‘stepping back really quick and pretending like nothing.’ But no idea if that was really what was going on or if he wanted us to think that.” It had been the first day they’d been moving furniture and Cynthia had been with Rachel, Charlie and Bass when they'd walked in.

She didn't quite miss the quick look Carissa directed over at Jeremy. It wasn't the same hungry gaze she’d given Bass the first night she’d seen him but it wasn't indifferent either. He didn't have Bass’ blatant sensuality or Miles’ intense energy but there was something about his face that was attractive. She wasn't sure if it was in the clever personality overlaying average features but there was something appealing about him that she hadn't noticed that morning. Which made her wonder if it was an expression he put on just like Gene’s clothes. She almost smiled, wondering why someone who had been complaining about his balls sweating at six in the morning would be wearing a sweater-vest just after nine.

She watched as the women at the quilt made room for him to pull one of the extra chairs into their midst. One of them handed him a needle and he bent over, laughing at something one of the women had said.

 

It took them slightly over an hour to get the diamond quilt all tied and Cynthia insisted everyone get up to stretch and have a snack of the pastries she had been baking. There were the blueberry turnovers that Jeremy had mentioned, along with turnovers in apple and cherry, several pecan pies, cookies, cakes and an apple crisp.

Charlie helped Cynthia take the diamond quilt off the frame, set up the silk squares and hand off the diamond quilt to three women who started set their chairs close together and started sewing strips of green fabric to bind the edges.

By then Emily and the farmer – Charlie had learned her name was Jane – had talked Carissa into letting them teach her to quilt and Charlie happily gave up her place at the frame to help Rachel thread needles. As he came back in from the dining room, Charlie noticed that Jeremy abandoned his spot to come over and chat with Emily, finally seating himself between her and Carissa.

With everyone sewing at a different rate varying with their skill and complexity of pattern, and with each quilt using a different color of thread – purple for the wild geese, blue for the octagons, red for the silk squares -- Charlie and Rachel kept busy between the two rooms as well as ferrying around scissors and re-filling water glasses. 

Cynthia enforced a ten minute break every hour to ensure everyone stretched and the women working on the silk squares and the octagon switched several times – though the quilters on the wild goose spread stayed in their places. Charlie wasn't sure what kind of information Jeremy was getting, but based on the amount of laughter coming from his group, they were at least amused.

Miles and Gene were conspicuously absent, though Bass wandered in a few times to whisper questions to Cynthia and she replied with equally low-voiced direction. Once, when she had most of the needles refilled, Charlie ducked into the kitchen. Bass was slicing the rolls Cynthia had brought for the sandwiches, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

The venison-salad spread was backstrap that had been diced with onions and celery. Bass had improvised a cream sauce of yogurt from Lila’s goats, oil and mustard. Charlie sneaked a bite and nodded in appreciation. “Tastes good.”

“Thanks. My cook in Philadelphia used to make this a lot with chicken. I think it was a little better that way. And he made real mayonnaise. Not quite sure how.”

It was the fact that he could cook at all that Charlie still found surprising. “Well this still tastes pretty good. And we certainly had a lot more backstrap than we do chickens.” She’d been planning on selling some to Emily the next time she took venison to town but she’d not been hunting in the last week, the next batch of fish still hadn't been delivered for the Patriots and with the addition to another adult to the household, they’d been going through more venison than she had planned. ““Is there any backstrap left or did you use it all?”

“I used most of it. There’s about a pound and a half left. I was thinking of making it for dinner tomorrow.”

“Can you use something else?”

“Of course.” She would give it to Emily before she left, Charlie decided, as a thank you for bringing the chocolates. Bass had finished slicing the rolls and was stating on the late tomatoes, layering them onto a plate. She’d lingered long enough, Charlie decided, for all that she wanted to take a seat at the table and watch him frustrate his way through trying to slice tomatoes one moment and set rolls in a basket the next. She was tempted to offer to help but the longer she looked at him, the less she wanted to help. 

“I’d better get back in there. Someone may be running out of thread.” As far as she was concerned, Rachel could thread needles herself, or the quilters could thread their own needles. She wasn't sure if it was her talk with Jeremy or Carissa’s comments about being an exhibitionist earlier but she realized if she didn't walk out of the kitchen soon, she wasn't going to and a house full of women were not going to miss any signs that she had been debauched in what was supposed to be a quick trip to the kitchen. And, even she had to admit, there was something vaguely unsanitary about the idea.

She tried to order herself to leave, but as Bass focused on his tomatoes, she realized the problem was that she was annoyed that he was paying more attention to them than he was to her. She didn't generally think of herself as petty. She’d barely fit in with the groups of girls in Wisconsin – though none of them had been actively unfriendly. She got along better with the women in town here, though age probably had a lot to do with it, and the fact that people were willing to forgive her a great deal since they knew about the death of her father and brother and her time fighting with the Rebels and Georgia. She’d always found the silly little-girl games she’d watched her schoolmates play with boys to be pathetic. But watching him working, she suppressed the urge to do something to distract him. It was the hormones, she told herself firmly. She hadn't bled in nearly a day but Maggie had always warned her that the body still cycled a few days before and after.

She was nearly to the kitchen door when something hit her in the middle of the back and she turned around to see a partially wadded dishcloth on the floor behind her. She felt one eyebrow raise and Bass smirked before going back to his slicing.

She felt herself smile as she turned back around, even if she bit her lip to keep from commenting. Knowing he was baiting her made her feel much better, and she realized, considering the last few days, she probably deserved it.

When she got back into the living room, Nellie rose, offering Charlie her seat. “Go ahead,” the girl offered. “I want to stand for a bit.” Rachel had plenty of needles threaded so Nellie wandered between the quilts, chatting and thanking everyone. Jeremy was across from her, sitting close to Carissa.

“So,” Charlie asked Carissa, “what do you think of your first quilting?”

A lot more fun than I thought it would be.” She laughed as Jeremy moved an elbow into her side. “I really wasn't sure what to expect.”

“And you, Jeremy?”

“I think it’s neat that everyone’s teaching me all this. I think I might have been able to sew on a button, if my life depended on it.” He looked down at the pattern he’d been stitching in blue. His sewing was unexpectedly even. It was a beginner mistake to get impatient and try to making larger stitches to go faster. Charlie supposed she shouldn't be surprised at his patience.

Emily smiled at him. “Well, you’re doing well. So, tell me. Are the rumors about you and Miles true?” She glanced apologetically at Charlie. “I know we’re all suppose to pretend to call him Stu but the entire town has known who he is since he organized Willoughby against the Andovers and offered to trade himself for us. “

“That’s Miles,” Jeremy agreed. “A bleeding heart for every lost cause that comes along. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. He doesn't love what he doesn't feel sorry for. And he feels bad about not being able to love me, which means I get a few crumbs. But I've never been able to tell who he loved more: Rachel or Sebastian Monroe. “ So he was playing unrequited lover for sympathy, Charlie noted, even at the same time half the occupants of the table stiffened. Jeremy looked concerned, as if he didn't understand. “What?” After a moment he snorted. “It’s not like he’s the devil. Saying his name won’t make him suddenly appear in the room. Look, see. Sebastian Monroe.” He uttered the last words in a dramatic stage-whisper. Several of the women smiled sheepishly. Charlie was just glad Bass couldn't hear Jeremy or else he’d have come in on some pretext like lunch or snacks just as Jeremy was saying his name, even if she and Rachel were the only ones who would get the joke. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. If you promise not to tell. Bass Monroe, before he went totally bat-shit crazy, was one of the most caring people ever. Which was part of why he went bat-shit crazy.”

Emily winced. “I just. . .it just seems to wrong. To talk about him like he’s a normal person.”

Jeremy shrugged. “Well he wasn't. Normal people don’t take over the East Coast. But sometimes good people turn into monsters because they are trying too hard to fix everything.” His foot nudged hers, under the quilt.

“I find it harder to forgive him,” Charlie snapped, realizing she’d probably missed her cue back at the bat-shit comment. “He’s done too much.”

Jeremy snorted. He leaned towards her, the quilt frame between them. “Charlie, someday someone is going to come for Miles and you’re going to demand the same forgiveness for him.” Did he read her mind, Charlie wondered. Or was it just that he was able to put into words what she had been wondering. And why did everyone at the quilt look suddenly thoughtful, like he was actually making sense.

“Can we not talk about Monroe?” she asked, and she wondered if it sounded as whiny to them as she did to herself and he held up his hands.

“Far be it from me to touch a painful subject. But one quick observation. If I may?” She nodded and his grin went needle sharp. “I know you have a great excuse like he saved you from bar-bandits or something like that. But is there any reason, of all the people you met on your trip, you bring home the one person who looks enough like Sebastian Monroe that for a few seconds even I had my doubts?”

She really had no good comeback for that, and she wasn't sure if she was supposed to or she’d missed another cue again. 

“Leave her alone, Jeremy,” Rachel said, coming up behind her. “James is nice. Even if does look. . .well, like he does. And the more you’re around him, the less you see the resemblance.”

“Rachel, I defer to your superior wisdom,” he said, nodding at both of them. Rachel moved off as one of the women working on the bindings of the diamond quilt raised her hand with an empty needle.

“So what’s it like,” Carissa asked. “Living here? You and Miles share a room, don’t you?”

“I have Charlie’s old room. He snores. She never slept there anyway.”

Charlie felt herself blush as everyone around the quilt turned to look at her. She saw the same looks on their faces as on Cynthia’s the days she had dropped off the venison. She was about to make the same protests about everything being temporary but that had been before she’d realized she was willing to admit she didn't just want them to be temporary. “Seemed silly to take up two rooms,” she muttered.

“I've never lived in a regular house,” Carissa said, sounding wistful. “Even before the blackout, it was this DC apartment where my two sisters and I had to share a room. Then barracks in Cuba, now I've got a room in Patriot HQ I share with three other women.”

“You’d be surprised how much this probably feels the same,” Charlie said. “There are six adults here. Miles was commenting this morning about how it felt like we were packed in like sardines.” It felt so good not to have to try to remember to call him Stu.

“You should find a family to board out with,” Jeremy commented to Carissa. “Get to see real house-life. Tell Truman its research.”

Carissa snorted. “That actually sounds kind of heavenly. But with so many refugees in the town because of the Andover threat, there’s not many people left who have any space.”

“You know,” Jeremy commented and his tone sounded so casual it make Charlie’s skin prickle. “We do have a perfectly serviceable attic. As you should know from searching the place, what, twice?”

“Jeremy Baker,” Carissa said. “If I didn't know better, I’d say you were angling to try to invite me to move in.”

He shrugged. “Well, Miles has proved to be a disappointment. Again. One learns to recognize these things early and move on before he starts getting too twitchy and runs. But the attics here really are lovely.”

“I’m flattered,” Carissa’s tone implied otherwise but at least she sounded amused, “that you want me to move in to try to make your off-again boyfriend jealous. But –“

“Oh you won’t make Miles jealous,” Jeremy said quickly. “That would imply he’d cared in the first place. I mean, he cares, but more because he thought I was dead. Once the shock of finding out I was still alive wore off. Well, if you've ever wanted something till you found out you could have it. . . .” He arced an eyebrow at Charlie.

“That would be Miles,” Charlie agreed, even though it really wasn't. The eyebrow didn't quit. He had to be insane, she decided. But Jeremy hadn't been wrong about her and if he was angling for Carissa to come live with them, then there had to be a good reason. If she was lucky, it wasn't just about him wanting to get laid. “But he’s right. You should make him move into the attic if he likes it so well and come live here. I can’t promise it won’t be like living in a barracks. But it would be fun.”

She felt a flash of grief for Nora. Practically her last words were when a dying Nora had told her to go help Rachel and she’s replied, “Nah, you’re more fun.”

“Would Gene mind? I mean, it is his house.” Charlie realized the Patriot Captain was trying to sound cynical but there was something hopeful in her tone that was almost heartbreaking. What had it been like, growing up in Patriot compound, Charlie wondered. 

“Like you've cared about that any of the time you've searched us.” Charlie joked. “The only difference is you wouldn't have to get out of your pajamas first.” This was reckless and stupid, but from the look Jeremy was giving her, she was saying the right things. No wonder, she decided, they hadn't told her about the plan. There was no way she wouldn't have been able to sound convincing if she had any clue before Jeremy had ambushed them both. She only hoped this really was the plan and not something Jeremy was spur-of-the-moment-ing on them all.

“Your old room. It’s next to James’ isn't?”

Charlie felt herself blush and Jeremy grinned. “Are you a heavy sleeper?”

Carissa laughed and she suddenly looked younger, more relaxed. “I grew up in communal living. I had to be. That and I have earplugs. I’d have to talk to Director Truman, of course.”

Jeremy’s grin went evil. “Be sure to mention to him that I’m heartbroken over Miles. And that I think his hair is very nice. Almost as nice as yours, actually.”

Emily and Jane both had their hands pressed to their mouths and the other woman in their group blushed. Her name was Julie, Charlie remembered from tea with Mrs Truman. She kept house for her three brothers who ran the forge in Willoughby. She’d been hit in the back by an Andover arrow during the evacuation and that had been her first outing since. 

Emily laughed, “Damned if I’m not tempted to see if I could take you home with me. I really can’t tell which team you play for and if he wasn't so horrified he’d run us both out with a shotgun, my husband would get a kick out of you. Though I’m not sure the most amusement would come from trying to figure out which of us you were trying to seduce.”

“Why discriminate. Besides, it increases the odds that someone would take me up on my offer. And if both do. . .well, that just reduces the chances of hurt feelings.”

“I can think of a few couples,” Jane said dryly, “who might actually take you up on that if you decide you are staying in Willoughby.”

Julie turned a slightly deeper pink but she hid a smile behind her hand.

Jeremy gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, I have very strong views about the sanctity of marriage. Which is why I’m not married. But for others.”

“Oh,” Julie said suddenly, her voice a little husky. “Josh and Susan aren't actually married.” She seemed to realize she’d spoken out loud and went scarlet.

“It’s all right,” Emily said. “It’s not like they try to hide it. Josh and Susan,” she said, looking over at Jeremy and Carissa, “came to Willoughby about two years ago. They've never officially married – though that means less than it did before the blackout – and they’re famous for ‘house guests.’ It usually ends with one of the other of them moving out – depending on the week. Then one day the ‘guest’ is leaving and they’re back together. “

“Dysfunctional relationships are about as old as relationships themselves,” Jane muttered. Carissa looked fascinated but Charlie was surprised to see Jeremy looking slightly repelled before he seemed to catch himself and smiled.

“Can’t say I’m one for drama myself. Granted, sometimes it can be a little fun. Stirs people up. Imagine, Julie, what your brothers would say if you showed up with me and announced I was moving in with them.”

The girl laughed, this time not hiding her smile. “I don’t know who they’d string up first. You or me.” How he knew she had brothers, Charlie didn't know. But he had been quilting with her for a while when she’d been doing thread and her trip to the kitchen. Apparently his belief he'd be able to get people to talk wasn't just an idle boast.

“See, that’s what I don’t get. This tendency to force morality on women only. If a man can go out and . . .what’s a suitable euphemism here . . .obtain companionship, why is it wrong when a woman does the same thing? And if it is wrong – and I won’t even attempt to say it isn't because I’m not sure we’re not taking the question of religion seriously enough these days –then wouldn't it be wrong for both?”

“Probably because it’s women who get pregnant.” Carissa commented.

“And see, that’s looking at it sideways as well. You can only have one child every nine months at most. If I were unusually persuasive, even for me, I could impregnate every woman in this town in a matter of a few hours.” He stopped, grimaced, blinked and shook his head. “Well, maybe a few days. And then move on to the rest of Texas after that. So how is a woman’s fertility more dangerous than a man’s?”

And every single one of them, Charlie realized, was absolutely about to start eating out of his hand, including Carissa. She got another sideways look from him, which made her want to scream in frustration. He was trying to feed her lines, and she wasn't getting them.

She took a deep breath. Miles had said she was best when she wasn't prepared, and Jeremy was smart, which meant he had gone somewhere for a reason and she should just trust her own gut.

“Jeremy,” she said, keeping her voice humorous. “I don’t care if you are sleeping with my uncle or not. But if you try demonstrating the fertility question to make a point -- philosophical, legal, moral, religious, scientific or otherwise -- I will personally bash you over the head with the fireplace tongs before you can finish with the room.”

It was the wrong thing to say, she thought for a moment, as everyone stared at her but Julie started laughing first, and everyone else joined in. She guessed it was probably not the exact words he’d have preferred, but as Julie wiped tears from her eyes, she gasped, “Oh, Mr. Baker, you have no idea how tempted I am to take you home to meet my brothers, just to see their reaction.”

Jeremy grinned at her, leaning around the corner of the quilt frame to grip her hand. “I think that sounds lovely. But didn't you say they were blacksmiths? I fear my fate if I stayed past dinner.”

“Maybe I’ll try it then instead,” Carissa said. “I don’t think we've seen nearly enough of you at HQ. There’s this Captain, Paul Lincoln, who’s always going off without thinking. Charlie, you remember him, don’t you.”

She grimaced. “He meant well.”

“He always means well. But he’s got all the tact of an ox. I don’t know whether to sic you on him or ask you to give him pointers.”

The two of them exchanged smiles and Jeremy went back to his needle. “It’s a date then.”

It wasn't just a date, Charlie realized, from the looks they were exchanging. She was going to have to get used to the fact she was going to have to start hunting for seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was to have them to convert Carissa in one afternoon but that suddenly started to feel unrealistic. We find out later that it's been Miles' plan for a while but he couldn't find an excuse to get Carissa living with them to get her more comfortable with the dynamic they've got going between them. By showing up, Jeremy has been able to help out with that. There's still lunch to get through before we move on and them having to break the news to Gene, who actually is relieved (as previously stated, Gene could care less about who Miles is sleeping with, but he knows Rachel is attached to him).
> 
> Since this is all from Charlie's perspective, I wouldn't be able to show Truman's reaction, but he's pleased at the invitation. Other than the news that Stu Redman was really Miles Matheson -- and it was obvious anyway -- he's been feeling the lack of intel coming from a formerly reliable source and he's hoping for more.


	15. Chapter 15

In retrospect, Charlie decided, Carissa had never really stood a chance. Darting a glance over to where she and Jeremy were brushing elbows a lot more than necessary while they worked on their sections on the quilt, Charlie wondered how long he’d been studying the Patriot. Then again, he’d nailed her own issues within three days of moving in. 

“Where’s Miles?” she asked, interrupting something Jeremy was saying softly.

He looked at her, smile sarcastic. “Not my day to have him electronically tagged. “

“I don’t even know what that means.” She could hear her voice getting hostile but she didn't care much. If he wanted to ambush her, he could deal with it. 

“It’s from a movie,” Jeremy said, his voice gone soothing. “It’s just an expression. We talked about those this morning. Remember.” She smiled pleasantly and was pleased to watch him flinch. “Charlie, trust me, Miles isn't going to be upset about this. He’ll be relieved, I promise.”

“You’d better be right about this. Because if you break my Uncle’s heart. . . .” She watched Carissa’s expression fade from happy to stricken and wondered for a moment how she ended up being the bad guy here. Emily was biting her lip to keep from laughing and Jane and Julie just looked confused. She nodded at Carissa. “Trust me, I don’t blame you for any of this. He’s. . . .I don’t know what he is anymore.” That was probably closer to the truth than she wanted to admit. “And meaningless movie quotes or not, where is Miles?”

“Can’t fool you, can I, Kid.” She’d have bristled at his use of Miles’ nickname but something in the way he was looking at her made her realize he was quoting Miles on purpose. “He cut and ran for Aaron’s right about the time everyone else was showing up. The better to get out of the way.“ His eyes shifted once towards the direction of the kitchen. So the better to not have Miles and Bass in the same proximity then. “Like I said, trust me. I can read Miles' mind, just like I’m reading yours right now.”

Jane was darting glances between the two of them and even Julie looked intrigued. “So,” Carissa asked, her voice hesitant. “What’s she thinking.”

He leaned back in his chair, adjusting Gene’s sweater-vest. “Right now, she’s thinking, ‘I’m not surprised Monroe tried to have you killed. I’m just surprised it took him so long.’”

In spite of herself, Charlie felt herself grinning and she finally shook her head. “Nope. Wrong.”

“What?” Jeremy sat up straight, looking confused. “Really?”

“Really.” She let her smug grin twist into a wry shake of her head. “But I should have been.”

As he started to laugh, she turned to Carissa. “Barracks living may not be known for having a lot of privacy because there’s not much room. But when you’re living with family, you’ll have even less because they’re just so damn nosy.”

She saw Bass walk in to lean over and lean in to whisper something in Cynthia’s ear and the teacher rose. “Alright, ladies, lunch is ready. “We've got tables set up on the porch so if you’ll all follow me.’

Charlie hadn't realized she was hungry but she’d not been in to try Cynthia’s pastries yet. She followed Bass out where Gene was re-adjusting the basket of rolls. They’d set up a table – buffet style – so the quilters could go down each side of it then take seats at other tables. Charlie hung back, linking her fingers through Bass.

“I’d like to thank Dr. Porter,” Cynthia said as the women were filling their plates, “for letting us use his house. And to James, for putting lunch together. And to each of you all for coming together for our community. Nellie may be the one getting the quilts, but I can’t help feeling like we are all richer for the day. We all lost friends and family recently, and I won’t attempt to minimize the pain of that. But we came so close to losing our town as well and I think the fact we were able to salvage what we had given up for lost makes it all mean that much more.”

Charlie wondered if she could blame the hot moisture in her eyes on hormones or if it wasn't just that Cynthia was touching on the feeling of belonging that left her breathless. Bass' hand tightened on hers and he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Come with me.”

“Will there be food there,” she whispered back. “I’m hungry.”

His lips curved up. “Way ahead of you, Charlotte.”

Their bedroom actually faced the side of the porch where everyone was eating and Charlie checked the window as soon as they walked into their room to make sure it was shut. There was a plate on her dresser with a sandwich. Bass already had his hands in her hair and his face in her neck and she felt her body arcing against his hands. “Do did you know about Jeremy’s plan to have Carissa come live with us?”

“Uh-u.” The response was muffled ad she smiled.

“Was that Uh-uh, like no, or uh-huh like yes?"

He went for an earlobe. “Yes. Didn't know it was going to happen so soon but doesn't surprise me. He was always a fast worker.” He was backing her towards the bed and one of his hands reached out to grab the plate off the dresser. “Here, eat that. Fast.” He glared at her while she nibbled a small bite.

“That’s really good.”

“I’ll make you another one later if you want to take your time with it. Please finish that one.”

“I’ll eat, you take your clothes off. “ She got about three bites down before he was totally naked. She’d not counted on him getting his boots off so fast. She stalled another two bites making him stand there while she looked at him. “Here, take my clothes off too.” He took his time, running his hands over her back and shoulder, fingers sliding along her hips, while she finished the sandwich and she set the plate aside just before he tipped her back of the bed and landed alongside of her.

“I missed you,” he whispered and she ran her fingers into his hair.

“I've been right here.”

He pulled back and propped his head on his hand, looking at her. “No, you haven’t been. Not for the last few days.” One of his fingers moved to touch her lip. “And I don’t mean about sex. I’d like to think I’m adult enough to be able to go a few days without it. But I was scared I was losing you and there was nothing I could do about it. Promise me,” suddenly he had her pulled as close to him as she could get, “that if you ever don’t want me, you’ll just tell me and not leave me to wonder what I’m doing wrong.”

“I promise,” she whispered back. “But you have to promise me the same thing.” His arms tightened around her and his voice broke as he whispered her name. “I want to hear you say it,” she insisted and he rolled them so she was resting on top of him.

“Fine, I promise,” he growled. “But if you think. . . .” He entered her slowly, both of their breathing rough. “If you think I’m going anywhere. . .wonder if you've been. . .paying attention.” She leaned down and they exchanged a very long, slow kiss. Her arms went around his neck; his hands kneading gently at her hips. 

It wasn't just the sex, she decided, though he clearly enjoyed it. It was the sense of acceptance that came with it. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck and he dug his fingers into her hair. As long as words were off limits, she was going to have to accept his need for a physical outlet. Remembering the way she’d felt when he’d been planning on leaving, she had flash of sympathy. It may not have been that he was any more ready to say or hear the actual words than she was, but knowing they weren't allowed had to be frustrating.

She increased the rhythm, feeling her body clutching at his and abrupt she felt like the world was breaking around her. She collapsed against him, nerves misfiring, making her twitch convulsively. He held her, still moving until he came in her, her name a barely whispered sigh into her hair. She tried to fight her eyes sliding closed and he laughed at her feeble attempt to stand. He kissed her on the nose and crawled out of the bed, pulling on his trousers. “Go to sleep, Charlotte . I’ll wake you soon.”

It was nice, she decided, to be with someone who knew you well enough to understand your quirks, even if it was as simple as a few minutes sleep after sex. She wanted to protest but she relaxed into the pillow instead.

 

She couldn't tell exactly how long she’d been asleep – probably not long based on the sounds of women down on the porch – but she felt the mattress depress when he sat back down, holding a plate with a pair of turnovers. “I wasn't sure if you’d like cherry or blueberry so I got one of each.” She moved her head over onto his leg and opened her mouth as he held the pastry for her.

The crust was so buttery it practically melted against the blueberries. The dark taste of the fruit lingered heavy against her tongue and he took a bite, nodding in appreciation. “Going to have to get Cynthia to teach me to make these,” he muttered. He bent over to kiss her then gave her another bite. “I do great cakes – which may be hard to believe given how badly my bread turns out. Never really got into pies or pastries though.”

“I’ll add that to your list of failings. Along with not making mayonnaise." She sat up to kiss him and glared at him when he tried to press her back into the bed. “Stop it. You’re getting crumbs on the sheets.”

“Because getting them on the floor is so much better,” he intoned and she laughed.

“I’ll give you that.” The cherry turnover had the same crust, the tart fruit contrasting with the sweet gel around it. “Yeah, get her to teach you these.” She took another bite and held it out for him. “Was everyone still eating?”

“They were finishing up. Marybeth made some comment about me helping you with dishes, so we have a few minutes. Though I’m pretty sure she knows you’re not doing dishes.” He bent in and kissed her again. “Gene said he’d help too.”

Her grandfather sometimes looked at Monroe like he had a bad headache but he’d been surprisingly quiet over her sharing a room with him. She wasn't sure if he really accepted it or if he’d just gotten used to the parade of men going through his house. And how exactly had Jeremy talked him out of the sweater-vest, Charlie wondered.

Bass finished the last of the turnover and sighed. “Well, shall we get this over with?”

Charlie found her clothes and put them on slowly. She wanted to go back to bed and take a long nap, but – even with the flimsy excuse of dishes - people would still notice she’d been missing for most of lunch. She was half way to the door when Bass cleared his throat. “Um. You might want to look at your hair?” 

She moved over the mirror she kept on the dresser and grimaced. It wasn't just her hair. True, it was sticking out every place he’d had his hands – which had been in most of it . But her face had pillow-imprint, eyes languid from good sex and a bad night sleep. Her shirt also looked like it might have spent some time balled up on the floor. 

There was a pitcher of water on the dresser and she poured a little of it on her hands and scrunched her hair back down then held cool fingers under her eyes. It wouldn't fool anyone if they got within about five feet of her, but if someone happened to come into the kitchen and she had her back to them, it wouldn't be too bad. If she splashed some dishwater on her shirt, she decided, either it would take out the creases or she’d have the excuse to go change it.

She was about to turn away from the mirror when her eyes moved to Bass. He was standing near the door and she was pretty sure he didn't know she could see him. She would have been expecting smug, or possessive but he just looked scared. She turned quickly and he was smiling by the time she faced him and she wondered for a moment if it had been a trick of light or reflection. He tilted his head at the door but she stretched out her hand to him. “Is that such a good idea?” he asked. “The uncivilized part of me – watching you try to clean me off you – just wants to put the marks back on.”

She held up her right arm, palm out, flashing her brand. “How about this suffice for now?”

He looked away, sighing. “Damn it, I should feel guilty about you having that.”

She shrugged. “I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. Even when I hated you.”

He nodded at her. “Of course not. You told yourself it stood for Matheson, didn't you?”

“I hated the reminder that you two had been friends – I’d never seen you together – but yeah, I did.”

He was silent for a very long time before he nodded. “It was as much for him as me. That was our symbol together.”

“I. . .” she took a deep breath. “I’m kind of surprised he didn't have one himself.”

She’d never seen the tattoo on Monroe’s arm. He’d been wearing sleeves every time she’d been around him before she’d found him in New Vegas where all that remained of it was the ruins of burn-scars. But she’d grown up with the Militia symbol.

Bass cleared his throat. “I had it done about six months before the blackout. I wanted Miles to get one at the same time. But Miles can be the most stubborn, loyal bastard ever. He’d had every tattoo he’d ever gotten done by this guy near Camp Pendleton – where we went through training. He wanted to wait, have us go out to California on leave. Hang out at the beach, all that, and he’d get his then. We were probably three, maybe four months out from the trip when the blackout happened. It was a couple of years before people had taught themselves to do tattoos again that actually looked decent. By then we’d already started the brand to help identify our guys. So to him, not having a mark became a status symbol.” He sighed. “I didn't do it to be a monster. I. . .early on we found people were stealing uniforms and using them to get access to weapons, ammo, food. We lost an entire mill-worth of flour to bandits just before winter, because someone came in with faked orders to move it. Anything we could make for IDs, they could duplicate. Codes and passwords could be compromised. I kept thinking about the night of the blackout. I must have dropped my wallet down the seat of Miles’ car and didn't realize it till we’d walked the six miles to the gate. One of the guards was someone I’d seen in the gym on-and-off for about a year. I didn't really expect him to know me but you see a guy’s ink long enough and you remember it more than you ever do him. Tattoos at the time were still a lost art and trying to get ink, even if you could get someone who was good enough to hand-needle, was impossible. The brand was just so fast, and we had blacksmiths who could make a hundred irons. Lot less chance of infection. “ He rubbed his face. “I know it all sounds terrible now, and it turned into it. But we didn't start it that way.” She reached out to touch his arm and he took her hand, linking their fingers together. “We did have a few people brand themselves, but not many. Mostly because anyone we caught with the brand who wasn't in the Militia we prosecuted as deserters. That stopped most copy-cats.”

“So once you were in the Militia you never left again?” She remembered Jeff having commented about being conscripted for a few years.

“Three years was the basic conscription. After that, you could leave or stay. If you left you got papers. Most of them stayed. Even the ones with families to go home to. We were food and shelter. The pay was pretty terrible but more than most of them could have gotten on their own. Some of the ones who went home ended up coming back. We mostly conscripted orphans. Sometimes we even had families bring their children to us because they couldn't feed them and it was us or the slavers. We were only three years and the slavers were forever. And we didn't castrate.”

Suddenly he had her pulled against him. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t let me go there again.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulder, pulling back so their foreheads were together. “It’s okay. That’s not you anymore.”

His eyes were panicked. “But it could be. Everything I did I meant for the best. And it went so wrong. What if it happens again?” So it wasn't, she realized with a shock, that he was as haunted by his past as much as his future. She wondered what all the people who had been so terrified of him would think if they knew the person that Sebastian Monroe scared the most was himself.

“It won’t happen again. We won’t let it. You and I, Miles, Mom, Aaron, Jeremy. All of us.” He had his head back in her shoulder, his whole body trembling.

“You saw how bad it was when Rebels tried to kill Miles. What if this time the Patriots try killing you both? Who do I become then? You need General Monroe for the Patriots. So how do I be him, without being him?”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “We’ll figure it out together. I . . .don’t know it myself. But we’re not leaving you. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how bad you get. We’re not leaving you.” She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m not leaving you. No matter how far you go.” He nodded into her shoulder. He started to say something but then laid his head back down. His arms tightened when she tried to step back but then he let her go. “I promise, we’ll talk more about this later. Probably even soon. But we can’t fix everything in five minutes.” She looked over at the window. “We could stay up here all day and still have “what-ifs.” He snorted, smile flashing briefly. “But unless we both get back downstairs. . . .” She didn't really have a reputation to maintain she realized. But Cynthia had put a lot of work into the event and no telling what Jeremy was up to without adult supervision, though she wasn't sure either of them really qualified for that.

He stepped away and this time it was him who scrubbed water onto his face. “Fair enough. Though, it’s not as much of a stretch as you might think.” She tilted her head, not quite sure what he meant. “Charlie, you’re making quilts. To go on beds. Of an about-to-be-married couple. You don’t think all those women downstairs aren't thinking about that?”

Gene had already hauled in hot water from the bath house by the time Charlie and Bass walked into the kitchen. The plates were all stacked by the sink and Charlie filled it with water, swishing in soap. She started washing as Bass spread a towel across the counter. Rinsing involved three tubs of water, dunking the dishes in each one successively to remove the soap and she let Bass do that as she moved the dishcloth around under the water again the smooth ceramic.

With the three of them, they had everything from lunch dried and back in the cupboards in less than an hour. Charlie was pleased to note the steam from the dishwater had worked most of the creases out of her shirt. She dried her hands and went back into the living room where the finished diamond quilt was stretched across two chairs and four women were working on the edges of the octagon quilt and the everyone else who had been working on it were squeezed in around the silk squares. Carissa and Rachel were both sitting in chairs near the thread table, both looking a little bored.

Rachel smiled when she saw Charlie. "Are the dishes done or did you just need a break?"

Charlie grabbed another chair. "All done. Well, all we can do for now." There were glasses spread around the room but people were still using them. There would also be more plates once they did a final pass over the pastries. "Where's Jeremy?"

"There wasn't room for everyone and we were the two slowest anyway," Carissa said. "Not sure where he went."

Rachel snorted but didn't elaborate when they both looked at her. "So," Charlie asked. "Are you really think of moving in?" Rachel glanced between them, looking confused and Charlie felt a tiny bit glad to know something her mother didn't. It didn't happen often.

"I don't know. It just. . .seems like it could be a little awkward. With Jeremy and Miles." She looked a little hesitant, then blurted out, "Is he gay or bisexual?"

Rachel's lips curved up. "He is whatever he wants to be. He's asked you to move in?"

Carissa nodded. "He says it would help me understand regular life in Texas and that I won't get it in a Patriot barracks. Which is probably true. But I can't figure out if that's it or he's. . . ." She broke off and looked embarrassed.

"Hitting on you?" Rachel supplied helpfully.

"Exactly." Carissa answered, her tone dry. "One minute I think he is. And then the next minute he's hitting on Julie and Emily and I. . .I kind of want to know what I'm getting myself in for. It's not that I care so much as. . .well, I'm an intel officer. I like puzzles as much as anyone. But I also like solving them and getting to take this tangled mess that I started with and putting it in a neat box when I'm done with it."

"Jeremy doesn't do boxes," Charlie commented but Rachel smiled.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that either. Just not quite the box you mean." Carissa and Charlie both gaped at her for moment. "Monroe kept me in Boston for a few years and he used to come out to visit me at least once month to make sure I had everything I needed. . .and to make sure my jailers had me appropriately contained. I used to look to look forward to his visits for the news he'd bring. One of my maids. . .well, she used to look forward to them for other reasons."

Carissa looked a little cheered. "So he goes both ways."

Rachel nodded. "And from what Anna said, he does it extremely well. If you're looking for a fling," she shrugged, then waved her hand around the room. "But if you're looking for this. Him to settle down?"

"Hell no," Carissa gasped, face horrified.

Rachel looked relieved. "Just as long as you're aware of that."

"Do you think Miles. . .would mind?"

Rachel shook her head. "If anyone knows what Miles thinks about anything, they deserve an award." Charlie laughed.

"Well, I'd still have to check with Director Truman to see if it would get approved. And with Dr. Porter." She had that wistful look and Charlie was surprised when Rachel patted her shoulder.

"I'll ask Dad if you want me to. He won't mind. It's not like we've not had a revolving door or people in and out of here for the last few months. What's one more?"

"Revolving door," Carissa said, "generally involves people leaving. You seem to be keeping most of them here."

Rachel shrugged. "Aaron left. And Miles too even. But I wasn't comfortable with James at first and I asked Miles to come back. By the time we decided we liked James, we were used to having Miles here. He and Charlie have been so close, I think he missed her almost as much as I did."

"Besides," Charlie added. "He's right. You'll probably learn a lot about regular life when you're out of the barracks."

Rachel's tone was dry when she commented, "Regular life? Well, maybe not here. But she's right. You will learn a lot. Though I can't promise you'll like it all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Not my day to have him electronically tagged” - The Matchmaker (1997)
> 
> I'd feel bad about using a lot of movie quotes and references. . . .except they use it so much on Revolution that it doesn't really feel like cheating, even if it is.
> 
> I'm not sure entirely where the next chapter is going to pick back up (that evening, the next day or a few days from now) but unless I have some major inspiration in the next 24 hours, we're done with the quilting. I've given it entirely more time than I ever had planned, but I can't say I'm displeased with the results. 
> 
> One thing that did catch me a little by surprise was I wasn't expecting Bass to have phobia's that he'd relapse back into General Monroe. The assumption I'd made was that he tried to do the right thing, managed to make a disaster of it and now he's moving on. Trying to do the right thing. Again. So he's now worried it's all going to start over again. I'd kind of touched on the idea in Chapter 9 when Miles commented that sending him off alone, even with good intentions, might not be a good idea and when he comments that Bass -- given enough time -- would take right to bear arms to the same extreme he took firearm restrictions. Once again, it's a case of my subconscious being brighter than my conscious mind (either that or it's just the voices in my head being louder than I am again). I'd find it really annoying but it works well for the purposes of this story so I shouldn't complain that much. 
> 
> I also figured he'd been so patient with Charlie and all her issues that it was about time she reciprocated and got to placate some of his. These two really do need therapy. They get Miles, Rachel and Jeremy. Better than nothing, perhaps, but still not quite the same thing.
> 
> And the final reason. . .well, this chapter was running a little shorter than I had planned and I seized on the first rabbit-trail I could that I thought might add length to it. Well, okay, the second rabbit-trail. My first rabbit-trail lately has been Jeremy but this is suppose to be a story mostly about Charlie and Bass not "lunatic ramblings of Jeremy Baker." They'd probably be funnier (and that gives me a horrible idea for doing this story over again 1st person POV from Baker's perspective. . .but I refuse to touch it till I've finished this) but I've been relying on him way too much lately so it was time to have a chapter with him barely in it at all (for those of you who noticed it wasn't as funny as previous chapters, you're right. . .but it did have to happen). And we'll get to see all of them quite a bit after Carissa moves in since they're going to start getting her used to Monroe, even if she doesn't know who he is. We'll find out a little more about her, and why Miles has had his eye on her for helping with the resistance for a while.


	16. Chapter 16

Miles and Aaron turned up after the majority of the quilters had left. The wild-goose quilt still had about three hours of work left on it before the edges could be bound. The women working around it conferred with Cynthia and agreed on a time to come finish it at her house. The silk squares needed a second set of stitches applied on the binding to reinforce the border but Cynthia herself promised to do that. Nellie gave Cynthia one last hug before she and her mother rode left, the box with the diamonds and octagons tucked securely between them. 

Carissa volunteered to assist with clean-up but Jeremy – who had come back from wherever he had disappeared not long after Miles had turned back up – shook his head. “You probably should get back. Talk to Truman. See if he approves your move.” The Captain turned her head to where Miles was stacking glasses and Charlie heard Jeremy whisper, “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him later. When you’re gone.” That seemed to content Carissa and she accepted Cynthia’s offer of a ride back to town with the other wagon of women she was taking.

Charlie was surprised Miles or Aaron hadn't volunteered to drive them but –as the last of the visitors were loading into the wagon – Miles walked over and touched Jeremy on the shoulder, almost but not quite a caress.

“Stop it,” Jeremy said softly. “You’re over me. I’m rebounding.”

“Oh thank heavens,” Miles sounding relieved. “Really?” His relief went skeptical. “That was fast.”

“Well I am.” The wagon was partly down the driveway and Jeremy snapped, “James, get your ass in here. Now. We don’t have long. She’ll be back in about twenty minutes.” Gene and Bass both came in from the kitchen and took seats around an empty quilt frame. Aaron had drifted over the fireplace and Jeremy shot him a skeptical glance but Miles nodded at him. “Good. Gene, do you mind if we move Carissa in for a little while? She needs to see what life away from the Patriots is like. She’ll probably be staying in my room. If that doesn't work I’ll set up a cot in the attic.”

“You mean,” Gene’s voice rumbled, “you've decided she’s who you’re trying to double agent. You know that never works out, don’t you?”

Jeremy shrugged. “We don’t need it to work for years.”

Aaron looked up, face disapproving. “And then what are you planning for her?”

Miles sighed. “I don’t want to make her expendable but a lot of it depends on what she does when we tell her the truth.”

“What truth?” Aaron asked, turning as Bass cleared his throat.

“Me. What they did in the Tower. All of it.”

“Cuz she’ll believe you,” Aaron grumbled but Jeremy shook his head.

“Trust us. She’ll believe it. “

“I don’t even believe it,” Aaron protested. “And I was there. Look, I don’t know if you’re as good as you think you are. . .but this has disaster written all over it.” A day ago, Charlie realized, she’d have agreed with Aaron. Now, as much as she wanted to, she wasn’t so sure. Aaron turned to look at her. “Charlie, this is crazy, isn’t it?”

The three men exchanged looks and Miles nodded. “Fine, tell them.”

Bass looked tired but Jeremy grinned. “See, I told she’s a big girl and can handle it.”

“She couldn't even manage a fake lover,” Miles protested, shrugging a one-shouldered apology toward Charlie.

Jeremy snorted. “Miles you are so thick sometimes, I wonder how you are still alive. That had nothing to do with Charlie’s ability to lie or not. That was the subconscious of two people realizing if they can’t have you, they could at least have each other.” Miles opened his mouth to protest but Jeremy waved him down. “And frankly, it’s probably the best thing they've ever done. Last time I was around either of them, they were both a mess. Look at them, they’re happy. You should try it.” Gene looked started, eyes swinging between her and Monroe and Charlie felt her cheeks heat. “But enough playing Jerry Springer. Captain Bailey is well connected. Very well connected. Not sure how.”

“My contact has been feeding my info about people going missing,” Miles said, “About Patriot re-education camps where they use a combination of drugs and brainwashing on their cadets. And it’s not a new thing. Over a third of their officers seem to have gone through the program. I’m betting we’re seeing a 5:1 ratio here in Willoughby with the deck stacked in favor of the re-educated. She’s a notable exception. And that’s where we’re thinking connections because she’s good, but she’s not that good that they’d send her out here without someone pulling strings, especially as a free-thinker. ”

“So is that why,” Charlie asked, “she doesn't have that plastic feel. Everyone else at dinner that night was a little. . .creepy. But she seemed okay.”

Jeremy nodded. “Nailed it in one. She appears to have a heart and a soul remaining. So now we get to see if we can show her how much they don’t. She may already know but not know what to do. In which case, we give her alternatives.”

“I know it’s risky,” Miles said. “If for no other reason than we all have to remember to call Bass James all the time. We've been getting pretty sloppy about that. So we get her used to us, then we see what we can get out of her.”

“In any case,” Jeremy added. “I’ll be taking her with me when I leave Willoughby either way. As you said, Gene, double agents work best when you keep them close.”

“You’re leaving?” Charlie asked and he nodded.

“Eventually. You won’t miss me much. It will be about the same time you all leave too.”

Gene raised his head sharply. “I thought you were staying to set up a resistance here?”

Miles shook his head. “This place has too many ties to you and Rachel for it to be safe for us. . .for everyone in the whole town. So we leave it alone. Aaron, as I said to you earlier, it’s your choice to leave or stay. We could use you, but we understand if you and Cynthia aren't up for it. Gene, same with you.”

“But Charlie and Rachel are going?” He stretched his hand out towards Rachel. “I just got you back. And I’m still so worried about you.”

Rachel walked over to him, tucking herself under his arm. “It’s okay, Dad. I have to do this. After what they did.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I thought I broke everything again. But it wasn't me this time.”

“Actually,” Aaron’s voice was strained. “Remember what I told you about the back door in the program? I don’t think the blackout was an accident. If they made it happen on purpose. . . .”

Gene’s face twisted. “Are you sure?”

Aaron nodded at the same time Rachel didn't step out of Gene’s arms but she sounded a little irritated. “I told you that. Months ago I told you all of it.”

“I. . .” Gene tried to pull her back against him but she jerked out of his arms.

“You still thought I was crazy.” She looked around the room, one hand fanning around everyone. “Even now, you still . . . wait, what did you think this was about? With Monroe?”

“You seemed better after he came,” Gene whispered. “I’d tolerate the devil, Benedict Arnold and Hitler all living in this house if it made you better. Rachel, please. I know you don’t understand. But I had to believe you were crazy. Because if you weren't then what I did, what. . .he told me, they. . . .” 

Her grandfather’s hands were trembling, face desperate and for a moment Charlie worried he was having a heart attack but Miles’ face twisted, breath blowing out. “Oh, hell. Gene, what did you tell them?”

Rachel stepped back, staring at her father like he was a lab specimen that hadn't’t had the right reaction. Not angry, but analytically and curious at the same time. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Gene babbled at the same time. “They wanted me to. They knew who you were so I couldn't lie about that but I never told them about him,” A twitch in Monroe’s direction. “Or what you were doing here. “

“When did you talk to them?” Rachel asked. She was looking back and forth between Gene and Miles and Charlie felt her stomach twisting. Monroe was chewing on his bottom lip and the blandness on Jeremy’s face almost scared her the most.

“Sweatheart, you don’t –“

“When?” He buried his face in his hands and Charlie could hear his sobs. “Dad, when was this?”

He didn't answer and Miles walked over to take his arm and lead him to a chair. He poured a glass of water and held it out to Gene. “Hey,” he said, and her uncle’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “It’s going to be okay. But we do have to know what you told them.”

“Miles, I swear, I only told them what they already knew. They threatened to take the medication but I didn't tell them about what you said happened in the tower. About Monroe or anything about the ammo. When Truman asked about the meat I said you had always got bored easy so it was something for you to do that you didn't have to be around other people.”

“Medication?” Monroe asked and his voice was as gentle as Miles.

“He’d have lost his hand after what Titus did to it, or worse. I told him the shots were herbal remedies but it was tetanus and antibiotics. I even threw in a flu shot for good measure. But the vaccines and antibiotics. They threatened to take them all back. They came after your Mom died. ” Gene was sobbing openly, arms reaching towards Rachel. “I just had to do things for them, when they brought people through. Be there when they were questioned. Answer a few questions. And they gave me the vaccines. We’d have all died without them.”

Monroe exhaled, then shook his head at Rachel. “Probably from about the same time as your friend Ken.” He rubbed his face, then dropped one of his hands to pat Gene’s shoulder. “ 

Her mother had that look on her face again, the one that always made Charlie wonder if Rachel really cared anything about anyone. It was so aloof, like the world was profoundly irritating and everyone else was just too stupid to notice. Miles looked at her, “Rachel?” There was warning in his tone and for a moment the mask slipped. But only for a moment.

“Dad, when was this?”

“Right after your mom died. The day we cremated them all. I. . . if the medicine saved Willoughby, I thought I had to do it.”

“Are there any others?” Jeremy asked.

Gene shook his head and Miles looked relieved until Gene added, “But I didn't know about Ken. And I don’t think he knew about me.”

“Great,” Aaron said. “So we could have an entire town of Stepford wives and no one would know it. I was planning on staying here. But I may see if I can convince Cynthia that staying. . .might not be as healthy as I thought.”

Jeremy gave a slight smile. “Well, at least you have vaccines here.”

“Would you knock it off,” Miles snapped but Jeremy grinned and shook his head.

“Miles, I get this is pretty bad. But it could be so much worse. He didn't tell them about Monroe or your plans or the ammo. I’m assuming that means your resistance contacts are still safe too.”

“Except the fish shipment should have been here four days ago. So maybe they do know.”

Gene shook his head. “I don’t think they do. I never told them about that and Truman’s been worried about it not coming in. They’re starting to ration. There was supposed to be a dozen pigs but they never showed up at the depot in Savannah.”

“Well that’s good news. My contact is in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. The shipments were from Savannah to him and then here.”

Jeremy nodded. “So as I said, I know this seems like a crisis. But it’s really not. “

“He made me think,” Rachel said slowly, “that I was crazy.”

“Rachel, think about it.” Jeremy’s voice had an edge but wasn't as sarcastic as Charlie had heard him. “He had to believe that. Because if you weren't, then you were telling the truth and he was helping the monsters. He was trying to delude himself, not you.”

They heard the sounds of a wagon outside and Miles swore. “Jeremy, get Gene upstairs. Rachel, go with him. “ When she didn't’t move, he grimaced. “Rachel, damn it. I don’t care if your pissed. There’s no way in hell Cynthia will believe there’s nothing wrong if you’re in here looking like that.”

Jeremy was helping Gene up, hooking one of Gene’s arms over his own. “Tell her I’m not feeling well and they’re checking me out. “ Gene glanced at Charlie as they walked past her but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. 

Charlie ignored Miles’ protest as she stepped up to Gene and pushed past Jeremy so she had her arms around her grandfather. “I love you, Grandpa,” she whispered in her ear and he clutched at her for a moment. “It’ll be okay.”

“How can it be okay, after what I've done?”

Charlie felt her own tears fall, and she returned the grip. “You’re in good company for that. I think that’s a question everyone in this room has asked.”

Rachel signed deeply, then stepped in to take Charlie’s place. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get you upstairs before Cynthia starts asking questions.” Aaron and Bass had headed for the door, probably to distract her for a few minutes.

Jeremy and Rachel got Gene headed up the stairs and Miles met Charlie’s eye from across the room. He looked tired, the lines in his face etched deep. “Well, that could have gone worse. Not sure how. But it could have.” He grabbed a half-full glass of water and downed it in three gulps, choking a little at the end. “I need a real drink.” Charlie sighed and he held out an arm. She took it as an invitation to step into his embrace. “You doing okay?”

“I think so,” she told him. “I’m still trying to figure out what it all means.”

Miles shook his head. “What worries me most is, why Gene? Was he just the person with the best lever they could find? And if so, how did they recruit Ken? And is it co-incidence that they choose Rachel Matheson’s father and childhood friend?”

They stepped away from each other as they heard Cynthia, Aaron and Bass in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry Jeremy’s not feeling well. Hope it wasn't something he ate.” Cynthia said, walking in.

“Spider bite,” Miles said. “He’s probably fine. He’s always been the world’s biggest baby where insects are concerned. But you know what they say about hypochondriacs. The one time you’ll ignore them they’ll turn out to be dying of something utterly curable if you’d have just checked them.”

Cynthia started gathering glasses from around the room. “Can I help wash these?”

“Nah, I got it,” Miles said. He glanced around the room. “Glasses, I can do. Quilt frames on the other hand. . . .” He was looking at one like it was a particularly complicated puzzle.

Cynthia laughed and came over to show him how to unbolt the legs and together they started to separate the frame into pieces. Charlie grabbed the glasses she had collected and carried them into the kitchen where Bass and Aaron were standing close together, their conversation inaudible. In spite of everything, she smiled at the intent looks on their faces; the two men who were probably the most dubious about the other, finally appearing to accept they were part of the same family. She had always understood why Aaron hadn't liked or trusted Monroe. Monroe’s opinion of Aaron had always been a little more surprising, edgy and almost passive aggressive. She’d wondered a few times if he was jealous of Miles having another friend that wasn't someone they knew together.

She walked up to the counter and sat the glasses down and Aaron leaned in to her. “I don’t think Cynthia is going to get put off trying to help clean up. And if I push it too hard, she’s going to realize something in wrong.”

Charlie nodded. “Go ahead and start the dishes, B. . .James.” The name felt wrong, but she realized Jeremy had been all-to-correct when he said they needed to start getting in the habit. “Aaron, can you help me come pack up the rest of the pastries?”

 

Rachel came downstairs when they had two of the quilt frames dismantled. “He’s fine,” she said, though no one asked her anything. “Dad’s just going to sit with him for a bit to make sure he doesn't react to the medication. Probably just a garden spider, but we want to be sure.” She was smiling but Charlie saw the stubborn set of her jaw behind it. Her mother, she realized, was going to treat this like she had the news that Charlie had found Miles, Danny’s death, Monroe working with them. There was going to be sarcasm and condescension in the next few days; the one outlet Rachel allowed herself when she was attempting to be stoic. She had always assumed when Rachel talked to people like they were stupid, that she what she really thought. But she was starting to wonder if the person her mother was actually maddest at was herself. 

Miles and Aaron got Cynthia’s pastry trays packed. She took the untouched apple pie home but elected to leave everything else –half a cake and a dozen turnovers. Rachel managed to convince her they could get the rest of the cleaning done and that she and Aaron left in the borrowed wagon with the quilt frames tucked in the bed to return to their owners. As soon as the sounds of the wheels faded, Jeremy led Gene into the parlor.

Charlie wasn't sure if it was what Jeremy or Rachel had said but her grandfather looked much calmer. She took a seat on the sofa next to him and, after a moment of hesitation, Rachel went to his other side. He wrapped his arms around them both and Charlie could feel the tension in his muscles when he squeezed her hand. Jeremy picked one of the wing chairs and Miles and Bass took up stances on either side of the empty fireplace.

“So,” Miles said slowly. “We were trying to explain the plan before we got derailed.”

“Are you sure you want me here?” Gene asked and Miles shrugged.

“You running off to report this conversation to Truman afterwards? No? You’re good. This actually changes things. I’m not sure we can leave you here now. They’d put to much heat on you and do I need to explain what people say under torture?” Gene looked away.

“It would be better to come up with a watertight excuse for leaving,” Jeremy commented. “Him leaving might attract more attention.” He stopped and Miles gestured at him.

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“Charlie, what would your reaction be if you found out Miles was your Dad?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s not.”

“I don’t care who it is personally. Though I still stand by my original theory on your parentage.” 

As Rachel started to protest, Charlie broke in, “It’s that Bass is my real mother.”

Monroe straightened from his slump, looking a little disturbed. “What?”

“He thinks that you and Miles participated in a secret government experiment and I’m the result.” 

Gene looked disgusted, Miles and Monroe equally appalled but the corners of Rachel’s lips turned up just a fraction. “It would,” she said slowly, “actually explain a lot. But I assume there is a point to this?”

“The Bass/Miles theory? “ Jeremy chuckled. “None whatsoever. Rachel/Miles? Absolutely. Charlie, if either of them were to tell you right now they’d been lying to you the whole time, what would your reaction be?”

“I’d be pissed they’d not told me before now.”

“Enough to leave Willoughby?”

She realized where he was going. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“If Rachel and Miles reveal they've been having an affair the whole time and you both knew all along Charlie was Miles' daughter and someone finally tells her. If she were to ditch, no one would be surprised if James went with her. And equally not surprised if Rachel and Miles went after her.”

Miles sighed. “Yeah, that might do it.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “I’m a little fuzzy about how we get there.”

Miles exhaled. “That’s my part. Truman’s a tin god down here. But people are willing to take a lot. This whole ‘create a problem, be the solution’ seems to be pretty effective. And if they've created the Andovers here, who have they created in other places? Because apparently the nukes just weren't enough.” Gene shifted uncomfortably.

“But people,” Monroe’s voice was soft, “are desperate to have a government to believe in. Here’s the U.S.A, back to save us. Here’s our President, come home. And that’s a tough cause to fight.”

“You’re going to kill the President, aren't you?” Gene asked but Miles shook his head.

“Nope,” Miles said. “That would be easy. But someone is pulling his strings. We’re going to find out who and where, and why. Then we’re going to kill them. And then. . .we’re going to make him OUR puppet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being a little shorter than I wanted. But I may not have a chance to update for a few days so here it is. It will go along with a few other chapters that I'll probably combine when I finish this and do the final edit.
> 
> We're going to have to wade through a fair amount of Miles/Monroe angst over the next few chapters because they're both going to freak out about the prospect of having to step back into the political arena, even if its just to be puppet-masters. This will explain why they're going to be so very, very glad when they finally run into Tom Neville, because he's going to be their only hope of being able to dump it all on someone else. I had originally not liked the idea of Tom running for President when they finally got around to having elections, but I finally gave in to the inevitable. I liked it even more when I realized who his running mate is going to have to be. Anyone willing to vote Neville/Baker?


	17. Chapter 17

The room was silent following Miles’ pronouncement, though Monroe winced slightly and Jeremy didn't look surprised so she assumed they had talked about it between them before.

Gene was the first to speak, clearing his throat twice. “I thought. . .you weren't setting up the Monroe Republic again.”

“We’re not,” Bass said, face twisting. “Don’t misunderstand. This is the U.S. Government. Based on the Constitution. Which is why we want the lawfully elected President to be the head of that government. But we have to consider that he’s been in the control of the Patriots for we have no idea how long. . .if they really were the ones who instrumented the Blackout, possibly the whole time.”

“Neither of us wants to do it,” Miles growled. “Which is why I figure we’re the two who need to do it. Because we know he doesn't want to be President because he hated it the last time. And we know I don’t want to be President because I already turned it down.”

“I’ll be President,” Jeremy quipped. Bass glared at him but Miles stared at him for a long time before Jeremy held up his hands. “I’m kidding.”

Bass sighed. “I really hate the son of a bitch. But do you know who’d be handy to have in this fight? Tom Neville. And he’d love to be President.”

“He was planning on executing you,” Miles commented and Bass shrugged.

“Can you blame him? But when was the last time anyone heard of him.”

“The Tower,” Rachel said. “He and Jason were going to go back to Georgia to see if they could find Julia. She was in Atlanta.” 

“Maybe we’d better leave that alone then,” Jeremy commented. “If we thought he was bad,” he waved at Monroe, “we probably don’t want to see Tom without Julia.”

"You know who'd make the perfect candidate," Bass sighed, sounding wistful. "Kelly Foster." They all turned to stare at him.

Jeremy was the first to speak, sounding unsure he'd heard right. "I'm sorry, who did you just say?"

"Kelly Foster." Bass winced. "I know, the irony of it is pretty unbelievable. We tore the entire East Coast apart between us and now I'd love to back her for President of the entire United States. But if I were to announced that I was unfit to hold a government office and that she had my blessing to take over for me. . . ." He signed. "Too late now."

“So that’s the plan.” Miles said. “Neither of us is going to be President. But we're going to either make sure he can stand on his own and govern like he was elected, or make him our puppet until we can get someone lawfully elected who does. The Monroe Republic and Georgia Federation will have no problem with it. Anything's got to be better than what they're dealing with now. Plains Nation won't care much, some of them will vote; most of them won't. But they really don't really have a government to oppose it. Texas may be a problem. California Commonwealth? Well, California always did have a lot of pull with the White House so for all we know the President and Governor Affleck may be long-lost best friends. Re-establishing all 50 States will be a battle for another day. If we let California and Texas keep the territory they have for now, that'll cut down on some hard feelings. But our first step is trying to find out if Carissa really does have a soul or I she’s just better at faking it than most of them are.”

Gene sighed. “This isn't going to end well, is it?”

“Well,” Miles commented. “When Charlie first asked me to help her get Danny back I thought we were going to end up with our heads on a stick and look where we are now. “

They made venison salad sandwiches out of the leftovers for dinner and Bass abandoned Jeremy for dishes to pull Charlie outside. The air was cool and he put an arm around her shoulder, strolling them down towards the pasture. The horses stood by the fence, cropping grass and Bass stopped to pat them, calling them Bea and Joe. She hadn't, Charlie realized, feeling a little guilty, even known what their names were before. Up until now she’d just thought of them as “horse.”

One of them – she didn't know if it was Bea or Joe – rubbed his head against Bass’ shirt and he patted it on the neck.

“So what are we doing out here?” Charlie asked.

He stopped petting the horse and recaptured her hand. “Nothing, really. I just. . .wanted to spend some time with you. Alone. If feels like there are always people around and I never just get to talk to you about. . .I don’t know. Like what’s your favorite color or what’s your favorite food or what’s been your favorite childhood memory or your favorite Christmas present? Did you ever have a dog growing up? Do you like it better in the summer or winter? Do you like to read? What did you want to be when you grew up?”

She smiled at his intensity and leaned in to kiss his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt rough against her lips. “What’s brought this on?”

“It’s just that I know Miles so well, sometimes I wonder if I've always kind of felt like I knew you too, by default. That I was being lazy in expecting you to be just an extension of him. I want us to mean something to each other.” She raised one eyebrow and he grimaced. “That’s not what I meant. We do mean something to each other. But I want us to mean something more than just because of Miles.”

She was, she realized, guilty of doing the exact same thing with him. “Okay. But I want to know just as much. Question for question. What do you want me to start with?”

“I want more than just one word answers,” he warned. “We each have to tell a little story with it, even if it isn't entirely relevant. Did you ever have a dog?”

“No. Dad wanted to get one to watch the house but Danny was allergic to dogs and cats both. But he loved them, so we were always having to keep him away from the ones in town. If we’d have had one in the yard, he’d have been impossible. Maggie said I could have an outside pet like a rabbit or a goat, but I was afraid because that sort of pet was just one hard winter away from being the next meal. You?”

“I had a collie growing up named Ziggy. He died when I was fourteen and we talked about getting another dog, but we never got around to it. When I wanted an animal, I’d just go over to Miles’ to play with his cat.”

“Miles had a cat?”

“Well, it was technically your grandmother’s cat, but Lucy was in love with Miles. She used to sleep on his feet. She was pitch black and would drool in her sleep. Your turn to ask a question.”

“What was your favorite TV show?” She barely remembered TV, though she knew she had considered it important at the time.”

“'Firefly.' Space cowboys. It got cancelled after just one season. Miles and I both used to watch it together. We were both in love with Zoe. She was the first officer and could kick ass with the best of them. Was there one you liked?”

“I was watching a Bugs Bunny cartoon the night of the blackout. I don’t know if there were others I liked. I was all upset because the TV had gone off but then Dad and Mom let me eat all the ice cream in the freezer because it was going to melt. Dad wanted me to remember what it tasted like.”

“Do you?”

She nodded. “Not day-to-day. But sometimes I dream about it. After I was twelve we’d have ice cream at Amanda Sullivan’s birthday parties. It was in December so there was always plenty of ice to spare and they had three cows. It was always butterscotch or caramel. I can’t tell which is which. Her mother said that flour that time of year was harder to come by than cream and sugar. Your turn.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

She felt herself start to blush. “A few months ago I probably would have said green or purple.”

“And now?”

She looked away, studying the tree branches. It was tempting to lie, come up with something like the color of the Texas sky or some other platitude but she realized she didn't want to. “The color of your eyes. I didn't notice them, in Philadelphia or even when you were in the Tower. It was when I woke up across from you in the pool. I couldn't believe how blue they were. It was hard not to stare.”

He leaned over and kissed her gently. “Go ahead and stare all you want. I won’t mind. Red.” He answered without her having to ask. “That dark red you see on roses. I wanted to make the militia uniforms that color but they didn't have the dyes. I’m looking forward to summer, when I can find a rose bush and bring you some.”

She leaned against his arm, barely trusting herself to speak, finally managing to get out “Food you miss most?” 

“Sushi. Don’t look like that. It wasn't just all about raw fish. Miles and I used to go to this little sushi joint in South Carolina. They were a dump but they had the best unagi I've ever tasted. They made their own sauce for it. Their sake was incredibly buttery, it practically melted in your mouth.”

“I thought Sake was rice wine?”

“It is. But it’s also salmon when it's served a certain way. I can see you’re going to just have to take it on faith. Yours?”

“Pizza.” She wasn't sure if it was so much that she missed pizza as it had been one of the foods the Matheson’s had eaten as a special treat. “They delivered it once and the order was mixed up. It was suppose to be half with something-and-pineapple and half with pepperoni with olives but they got it was pepperoni and pineapple and olives over all it. Every time anyone asked me what type of pizza I wanted afterwards, that was always what I said. I don’t know if I’d like it now, but I loved it back then.”

“You rebel,” he teased, ruffling her hair. “Even as a child, huh? Favorite subject in school?”

“Math.” At his started look of surprise, she laughed. “I liked that it started out with my name. But we learned addition, subtraction, multiplication, division mostly. A little algebra and geometry. Practical stuff only. Aaron tried to explain calculus and the quadratic formula in school and I remember thinking the blackout may have saved me from a horrible time in high school.” She gestured at him.

History. I remember thinking, on the way over to Iraq, this is it. I've made it into the history books, just by being part of the war, even if no one ever knows my name. Now. . .I wonder, what. . .what they’ll say. How they’ll remember me.” He looked haunted and she smiled at him.

“Well they say history is written by the victors, don’t they.” He nodded. “So we’d better make damn sure we win. We’ll make Aaron write it. The Monroe Republic, that saved the East Coast from raiders, bandits and slavers. Who helped defeat the traitors posing as the legitimate government.”

“You know there’s more to it than that,” he muttered darkly.

“Well yes. We’ll have to mention something about that. About how Sebastian Monroe overcame his own insanity to help save a Nation. How watching him come back from it may well be about the most heroic thing I've ever seen.”

“You may not say that if you’d have watched Miles five years ago. At least this way, I get to have both of you. He did it all on his own.”

She could play this all night, she realized, but she was starting to get cold. “Would you mind if we started this again later. I. . .want it to all mean something. Not jumble them up so much they all get lost like a sea of facts.”

“One more?”

The way he was looking at her she suddenly was afraid what he was going to ask, but the familiar stabs of panic were absent. Just a slightly sick dread that she wondered if it wasn't more the absence of the feeling that was scaring her. “Will you let me come hunting with you?” It wasn't what she expected and he must have seen the surprise in her face. “There’s going to be so many people around, and I want to. . .” he shook his head, looking as embarrassed she had earlier. “I love watching the way you move.”

Maybe that was the way to do it, she decided. Using words about loving the way he moved, his smile, the color of his eyes. And maybe someday she could actually admit out loud that she loved him too. “Alright. I’d love to have you come.” There, she decided. She’d used the words -- even if she’d mixed other words between them -- and she hadn't burst into flames or had the ghosts of Ben, Danny and Father Nicholas appear to berate her. 

If he read meaning into her words, he was doing a good job of not showing it. But, she reflected, she was trying to not do the same for his comment. Or they were just getting comfortable enough together that – while it would need to be stated rather than implied someday – it wasn't it a necessity to either of them right now. 

“Can we go in now?” she teased but he took a deep breath. 

“Just one more.” She looked up at him and his face was set, jaw clenched. “If. . .if you’d have killed me, that day in New Vegas. . .would you have regretted it?”

Her first reaction was to say yes but she closed her eyes, remember the feeling of triumph as she released the arrow and the rage when she’d realized someone else had gotten to him first. She’d meant it, when she tried to get Adam to kill him. “No. I’d have watched you die, and the only think I would have felt was that I’d finally gotten vengeance. I’d have gone through the rest of my life and never regretted it for a single day.” His face didn't change. “But I’d have gone through the rest of my life, always wondering why I felt so alone; like there was a piece of me that was missing. I never would have known it was you.”

He moved slowly, turning her to face him. They were both teared up this time and he pulled her gently into his chest, swaying slightly as he kissed her on the top of the head, one hand stroking her hair, the other wrapped around her waist. She rested her cheek against his chest, hearing his heartbeat through his shirt.

It was true, she realized. She’d have always thought the empty feeling was because of Ben and Danny. What would life have been like, she wondered, if Ben and Rachel had given themselves up to Miles and she had been raised in Philadelphia? She snuck a glance up and the smile of bitter regret twisted but she knew it wouldn't have been enough. Miles hadn't been able to help him, nor had Rachel. In the end, the only person who had been able to save Sebastian Monroe had been himself.

 

She slipped out of bed at dawn, deftly avoiding his clutching arms and smiling at his still-asleep grumbling but he woke as she was putting on her clothes. “You going hunting?”

“I am.”

“Can I come?” He started to sit up.

“Next time. We’re nearly out of venison so I want to make sure I get at least one today.”

“Meaning you’re worried having me along with scare them all away?”

She shrugged. “You can move quietly, I’ll give you that. But I don’t want to take a chance on it. Besides, you look tired.”

He grinned. “I am tired. I’m an old man. I need more than two hours of sleep.” 

She leaned over to kiss him. “Well if this is you as an old man, maybe it’s a good thing I didn't know you when you were younger.” His arms went around her but didn't pull her down, even though she was tempted to just lie back with him. “How about I get you when I've got them and you can help me carry them back.”

“Okay.” He buried his face back into the pillow and she grabbed her crossbow.

She heard someone in the kitchen so she tried to be quiet on the stairs -- wanting to avoid getting sucked into a conversation -- but Miles met her in the hall, his hair sticking in several directions. He pressed a finger to his lips and nodded towards the back door and she followed him to see a herd of eight or nine deer grazing near the garden. “I was about to chase them off,” he whispered. “But then I heard you getting up.”

She handed him her quiver and set an arrow before he eased the door open and she braced her shoulder against the frame. Her first shot took down a large buck and he handed her a second arrow as the herd started to run. One of them was limping badly, much slower than the rest and she took careful aim before loosing a second arrow. For a moment she thought she’d only missed or wounded it and wondered if she’d have to spend all day tracking it but it gave four bounds and dropped at the edge of the treeline. By then all the rest of the deer were gone and she and Miles jogged over to make sure they were both dead.

“Good job, Charlie,” Miles said and she grinned at him.

“Thanks. Help me hang them out?”

“Sure.” He headed off to grab the pulleys from the barn and she used her knife to start opening arteries, the blood already sluggish. He came back with the pulleys and rope and they carried the deer over to the sturdy oak not far from where they had both dropped. They picked branches on opposite sides of the tree and he hung the pulleys while she tied the back legs. Together they hoisted the deer up. It was a lot easier, she decided, doing it with a second person. She stood watching for a moment, making sure both ropes were secured while Miles headed back to the barn and reappeared with a battered pair of tin tubs that he positioned under the deer. “For the garden,” he explained and she laughed.

“Blood on the garden, shells for the chickens. You two really are turning into a pair of farmers, aren't you.”

He grimaced. “Okay, maybe a little. It seems to be good for Bass. But I think I’d go stir-crazy after a few years. I. . .I miss Chicago. I liked running the bar.” He sounded wistful.

“Think you may go back there. When this is over?”

He shook his head. “No. Someone will have taken it over already. But after this is over, maybe somewhere in D.C. Close enough I can keep an eye on things. Another hotel and bar.”

“It’s kind of surprising really. You hate people.”

“No, I hate letting people close. Because then I have to worry about them.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “It was different at The Grand. I could watch them but I didn't need to really care about them. But Bass should have a farm.”

She knew she sounded hesitant. “Maybe you’d do meals at the hotel. And if we had a farm in the area you could buy the food from us.” His arm tightened. “You could be Great-Uncle Miles to our ten kids.”

He whistled. “Now that’s an ambitious number.”

“Well, maybe not ten. But three or four.”

“Still an ambitious number.”

She shrugged. “I figured if we had less, he’d drive them crazy, trying to be protective. That way they’d have him outnumbered. “ 

Miles laughed. “That I’d like to see. So,” he sounded a little worried, “you’re sure that this isn't just about fighting the Patriots and after it over you’re –“

She shook her head before he could finish. “I think if they hadn't come along, it probably wouldn't have happened because I’d been too busy feeling guilty. But since it has happened. . .I can’t believe how much I want it. Even if it is wrong.” The look he gave her was sympathetic and she realized he had to know exactly how she felt. She took deep breath. “So get used to the idea of me having a couple of kids because they’ll be coming to visit you and Mom a lot.” He tensed, his body rigid.

“Charlie, your Mom and I—“

“So do you prefer Uncle Miles or Grandpa Miles.”

He started to laugh but it was sad. “Charlie, do you have any idea how messed up that is?”

“Any more messed up than the fact the father of my children will be Sebastian Monroe.” The look her is face acknowledged that he couldn't argue with her. “I know everything between you and Mom is messed up right now. I get that. But I also know you both love each other. So stop regretting it.”

He was starting to relax a little. “It’s a terrible idea.”

“So?” He rubbed his hand on his face.

“You just don’t quit, do you?” he grumbled and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

“No, I don’t. I want you two to be happy. I think Mom would like running a bar.”

He groaned. “Can we do me a favor and not mention that to her. Besides, we have a long way to go before we’re even close to that.” 

“True. But don’t wait till it’s over to tell her. And speaking of terrible ideas, I think – since hunting took less time than I planned – I’m going back upstairs to mine.”

He shook his head. “Remember, I don’t do details.”

 

He didn't wake at first when she slid back into bed, the room barely lightening. He wrapped himself around her like usual, only waking when she shoved at the arm he draped over her face instead of her shoulder. He moved it down, blinking and sniffling. “What? Thought you were hunting?”

“I did. I dropped two without even having to leave the back steps. Miles helped me hang them out so I’ll need to go butcher in a few hours. . .but that didn't even take an hour.”

“Oh good,” He rubbed his face into her hair. “I missed you.”

She smiled. He always seemed so young when he was mostly asleep. “What would you think of living on a farm near D.C.?”

He adjusted his arms around her. “Sounds good. Do you want to live near D.C.?”

“Miles wants to have a bar there. When this is over. Keep an eye on the government and all that. I thought it we were nearby we could keep an eye on Miles.”

“A bar’s a terrible idea. He’d drink all his profits and destroy his liver.”

“Mom wouldn't let him.”

He shrugged against her shoulder. “Farm sounds good. Finally get you a dog. I used to be pretty good at milking goats and they’re easier to keep than cows.” He rolled onto his back, keeping his arms around her so she was pulled on top of him. “After we've dealt with the Patriots.”

She grimaced. She hated the thought of having to take an unknown number of years to settle everything. She forced herself to breath slowly, remembering how the war with Monroe – which she’d once thought would never end – had taken slightly less than year. She wasn't sure if she could get that lucky twice.”

He pushed his shoulder off the pillow and kissed her. “Now, this old man, who was too decrepit to get out of bed earlier, is feeling the need to prove he’s still good for something.”

She smiled innocently. “I’d love that. It’s going to be kind of a pain to get all the furniture back in place and I know Cynthia was going to come back but you’d be a huge help.”

He rolled, pinning her underneath him, growling in the back of his throat. He kissed her for a long time until she desperate for him but suddenly he stood, walking away from the bed. “Okay. Furniture moving? Sounds good. Where’s my shirt?”

She was torn between a grimace and a laugh and finally decided to laugh. It was frustrating when he outwitted her but, she reflected, she had kind of earned it. “Not sure.” She could see it across the room on the desk and she was pretty sure he knew exactly where it was too but he turned back to her.

“Well then,” he purred. “Maybe I should just find another one.”

She stretched and yawned. “You could. Or you could just come back to bed.”

He crouched down by her head, not quite kissing her forehead but so close he might as well have. “Which do you want me to do?”

“Both. But I want you to come back to bed first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am usually obsessive about saving but I managed to write the last two pages and then close the file without saving it. Fortunately I discovered it about 30 seconds later so I was able to retype it while it was all still fresh in my mind. It's about 30 hours until the next episode airs and it will be interesting to see if my direction changes after it airs. Right now I've got a good idea of where it's going. . .but finding out what the Neville's are up to may change it a little.
> 
> I think I'm going to avoid Horn and the showdown with the nanites for now. Horn's impending arrival may be a good prompt for them to try to get out of town ahead of him with a tip-off from Carissa. Mainly because I want to avoid a re-hash of what they've already played out and I can't think of a good alternative for that other than changing the method Horn uses to get a hold of Aaron (no bomb, no sub-plot with Gene turning out to be a Patriot, because that's already been covered). Though somehow -- and I'm still trying to figure out how -- I've got to work in Monroe's "I'm Batman" line.
> 
>  
> 
> 1-12-2014: 
> 
> The Bad News: I didn't get Chapter 18 quite finished before I have to leave for a conference for work and won't be back for two weeks. The internet access most likely available is extremely restrictive and I know I won't be able to use their internet to update. I don't know if any other internet will be available.
> 
> The good news. While the schedule is pretty crazy (6a-9p most days) I am cautiously optimistic I'll have a chance to get a bunch more actually written. I'm not sure it will finished, but I am pretty sure we'll be out of Willoughby (I can hope). Also, not sure if it's a good sign or not but I had an idea for a D.C. that kept repeating in my head so I decided to briefly sketch it out and it ended up being the perfect place to actually end the main part of the work. There were still some "loose ends" as far as character relationships (not really romantic relationships -- Charlie and Bass are probably the most settled of everyone by the end. More like the dynamic between the Neville's and the Matheson's/Monroe; Bass and Connor; Aaron and Tom -- expect some issues to come up there most likely) but some of those will take years to work out so I tied everything up with an epilogue that takes place about ten years later where there is still tension but at least everyone is used to it).


	18. Chapter 18

Carissa came with Aaron and Cynthia about nine to help finish cleaning and replacing the furniture. Jeremy and Miles had both volunteered to go butcher the deer and in Jeremy’s absence, Bass was clearly on Carissa-duty, teaming up with her to move chairs and a sofa from the barn back to the house. They both laughed a lot and Charlie had to quell the feeling of queasiness that she knew was irrational. 

She told herself she was just tired, but she had to admit, her emotions were still raw from her admission to Bass the night before and to Miles that morning. She had meant what sshe had said when she had told him she would not have regretted killing him because she wouldn’t have known how he was the missing part of her. What stung – and she wasn’t sure she could tell him – was that part had been missing long before Ben and Danny had died. It had been what had pushed her to try to get Ben to let them travel, that lust to see the world. But at the same time she ached for her father and brother so much, she knew, if she had to choose, she’d have them alive, all back in Sylvania, even if it meant never seeing Monroe. It was harder to come to terms with the choice of to be with her mother or her father and she finally tried to stop thinking about any of it, before it gave her a headache.

She and Aaron had a quiet conversation when Cynthia was in the kitchen and she gave him the short version of the plan to send them all towards D.C. and he admitted he didn’t know if he would be going with them or staying in Willoughby, though the news that Gene had been a Patriot had clearly shaken him deeply.

Aaron had been off-center since the Tower and in dealing with her own demons, she hadn’t done much to support him with his. She knew part of it was his failure to stop the bombs but she remembered how very badly he’d wanted the power back, more than any of the rest of them. Cynthia had done a good job being a bandage for his cut-up soul, but the wounds still hadn’t healed. Except, if the stories were true, his physical wounds were a different matter. As for the two charred bodies Miles still would barely talk about, Charlie didn’t even know how to comprehend the thought of Aaron lighting people on fire with his mind. “Well, come or stay, you know you’ll always have a place on any team of mine,” Charlie reassured. “You’re my family too.” He shrugged and mumbled, actually shuffling his feet and she smiled at him. “You and Cynthia.”

“Yes, Cynthia. How do I explain this to her? Really, how?”

Charlie sighed, grimacing. “Well, she knows part of it already and she’s still with you. Moreover, she knows there is more that she doesn’t understand and she’s still here. That has to mean something.” 

“True enough. But how do I explain the rest of it. Like the fact that I accidently killed her husband. Or that the nice James Kingsley, who she was praising so much last night, is really Sebastian Monroe. She adores James, especially now. His volunteering to cook for them puts him up there with the saints. And she thinks the two of you are the sweetest thing ever. That story about him, saving your life. . . .”

“That was actually true.” Charlie reached out and patted his hand. The motion of the gesture made her feel a little dizzy but it passed as soon as she moved her hand back to her side. “I can’t tell you it will all be okay. Because I really don’t know what will happen. But she’s stuck with you though everything so far and I know she loves you.”

“I still don’t understand why.”

He sounded so miserable she smiled. “Well how about you just trust that the rest of us do.” He looked slightly more cheerful, like she’d actually said the right thing. Carissa and Bass appeared from the barn, laughing as they each carted armloads of sofa cushions. He jerked his head at them.

“So what’s going on with her moving in? Which I still think is a terrible idea.”

“Probably is. But if between Miles, B. . .James and Jeremy they can’t manage to brainwash one person, maybe it’s best we figure that out right now and opt to just run for it.”

“I’m tired of running.” She was surprised how firm he sounded. “That never ends well either.”

“So we’re left with following through and trying to take over the White House to manipulate the President of the United States.” She wasn’t expecting him to look cheerful.

“I stayed there a few times. The White House. Lousy drains, great food. Possibly the world’s worst wi-fi signal.” He grimaced. “Can I get back to you on the answer if Cynthia and I will be going with you?”

“Of course. We don’t even know when we’re going yet.“ It would have been enough to make her head ache, except she already felt like there was something throbbing behind her eyes.

“Hey, Charlie, “ Bass called. “We’re almost done. Carissa’s staying for lunch. Aaron, you and Cynthia are welcome to stay too. Especially since half of it is things she baked anyway.”

“Thank you,” Aaron called. “I’ll have to check with her. I know we had a stew on the stove.”

She and Aaron walked over to take some of the sofa cushions and carry them into the house where Rachel sorted them between which room they went into. She could hear everyone talking around her but everything seemed a meaningless blur that was making her head ache worse. Closing her eyes helped a little but it made her feel like she was swaying and when she opened her eyes again she realized it was because she really was. She put a hand out to grab the back of the chair in front of her but it wasn’t where she expected it to be and she stumbled as she patted for it. Someone’s arm gripped her shoulder as she started to slide and her vision blurred. The buzz turned into shouting but she still couldn’t understand the words.

When the world cleared again she found herself on the floor, partially in Aaron’s arms, her back against his side. He had her titled forward so her head was nearly on her knees. She almost wished for the buzz back as she heard Bass and her mother were both yelling for her grandfather. She felt like she was about to throw up. She glanced over at Aaron and the look he gave her would have made her laugh if her belly hadn’t twisted. It was resignation mixed with an expression that practically said, “do you have to?” at the same it also let her know he’d understand if she really did. But she only had a second to enjoy it before she was hunched over, stomach rejecting. . .apparently nothing. She dry heaved, her initial relief that she wasn’t going to vomit all over Aaron and the floor fading as the convulsive cramps in her stomach continued. Bass and Rachel were both on their knees beside her, babbling something but Aaron’s grip on her shoulders was rock-steady, his voice ringing out, “Someone get her some water.” 

Cynthia darted towards the kitchen and Bass gathered up her hair, his voice in her ear suddenly soft. “Charlotte, what can I do?”

She couldn’t answer, but with one hand on her neck and another on her side, she leaned her head against his arm. 

She felt the heavy footsteps rather than heard them and suddenly Rachel was sliding over give Gene room. Her grandfather felt her forehead. He motioned for Cynthia – returned with a glass of water – to wait next to Aaron. Miles and Jeremy were crowding in the doorway, her uncle’s face about the same shade as her mother and Monroe’s. Jeremy. . .just looked suspicious. She decided she didn’t even want to think why.

Gene gently turned her head to look into her eyes, and then pinched at the skin on the back of her hand. He moved away, gesturing Cynthia to give him the glass of water and he handed it to Charlie. “Sip that slowly. Are you up to answering a few questions?”

She nodded, still not quite trusting herself to speak. She barely wet her tongue, then took a slightly larger sip, letting the water trickle down a tongue that felt unaccountably rough.

“So, Doc,” Jeremy said from the doorway. “Are we witnessing the evidence of the impending arrival of the next generation?”

Bass looked shocked and terrified at the same time but her grandfather shook his head. “When did you quit bleeding?”

“Day before yesterday,” she answered, her voice sounding as rough as her tongue felt.

“And when was the last time you ate?”

She tried to remember what she’d had for breakfast, but realized she’d skipped eating anything in favor of an extra-long time lingering in bed, partly because she hadn’t felt hungry. “Last night. Dinner.”

“And when did you drink something?”

She’d drank water with Jeremy in the morning – four glasses of it if she remembered correctly. She hadn’t really felt thirsty the rest of the day. “Yesterday morning. About six.”

“And how much sleep have you gotten the last few nights?”

“About two hours yesterday. Five hours the night before.“ Except, when she really thought about it, she’d been in bed that night for five hours but she’d have been lucky if she had slept two of them.”

She heard Rachel’s sharp retort of, “Charlie,” but Gene glared at her.

“Not now, Rachel. You, young lady, are going straight up to bed. No, you’re probably not pregnant. But you’ve dehydrated yourself. Between that and not eating and not sleeping, your body has just decided that it’s had enough.” She must have glared at him because he shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. You should know better. When you were fighting with the Rebels and Georgia, didn’t you take care of yourself after you’d been wounded? Blood loss is blood loss, Charlie. No matter what the cause.” She followed his gaze over to Monroe. “And you, stop looking like you’re going to slit your own wrists. We all missed it.”

Miles walked over, crouching over next to Rachel, shaking his head. “Hey, Kid. No point in trying to prove how tough you are if you’re just running yourself into the ground.”

“I feel so terrible,” Cynthia said. “If I hadn’t asked to do the quilting here. . . .”

Miles shook his head. “You could have had it here, your house or the moon and she still would have done the same damn thing. She got stubborn from both sides of the family tree.”

“I know,” Gene said, “it’s the tradition of the twenty-somethings to need to prove themselves. And if the blackout hadn’t happened you’d be out drinking every night at some university somewhere. But you’re just coming off your first period in close to two years and your body’s still a little in shock. You may be twenty-two but it’s still bound to catch up with you.”

Bass looked away, jaw clenching and Gene looked at him. “I’ve been trying not to ask and I’m probably going to regret it but how old are you really?”

Bass’ jaw tightened, the lines around his eyes deep. “Forty-three.” Across the room Carissa’s eyebrows went up.

Gene, Charlie realized, hadn’t been the only one not asking. Intellectually she realized he was her mother’s age but something about hearing out-loud that he was nearly twice her age was startling. Oddly enough, Gene looked wistful. “Well, there’s another thing you come by genetically. I was eight years older than your grandmother. But my mother. . .she was nineteen years younger than my father.” She’d never really thought much about the great-grandparents that had died before she was born but she decided she definitely needed to learn a little more about them as well as Ben and Miles’ parents. 

Monroe and Miles between them helped her to feet and she nearly threw up again from the sudden sense of vertigo, even though they were trying to move slowly. “Do you think she needs an IV?” Rachel asked.

“No. Nothing that a long nap, lunch and water won’t cure on its own. If can’t keep it down, I’ll re-evaluate. But I seem to recall you doing the same thing when you were working on Masters. What was it; 48 hours of energy drinks and coffee shots without sleep? Put her on the sofa in the parlor. She’d probably be more comfortable in bed but don’t want her having to deal with the stairs when she has to go.”

“She won’t,” Bass said. “I’ll see to that.”

“I hate chamber pots,” Charlie grumbled. Gene only smiled.

“Well remember that next time. But I meant it when I said sleep.”

She felt Bass tense against her and she couldn’t see the look on his face from her angle but Gene took a step back, even though Bass hadn’t moved. “James,” Miles’ voice stung through the silence. “Drop it. Or you and I will have words. But this is not the time.”

She was guessing Bass nodded. With her arms around both their waists, they helped her over to the stairwell and Bass said, “This is too narrow for all of us. Spot me, would you?” He swung her up to cradle against his chest, taking the stairs slowly. He sat her back on her feet when they got to the upper hallway and she got a good look at his face and realized he was furious. “I can’t believe he’d imply that I’d –“

“He’s her grandfather. He’s allowed to be suspicious. I’m her uncle so I’m also allowed. I just happen to know what a great nurse you make.” That made Bass smile, even if it was tight. “See,” Miles told her, patting her on the shoulder. “This is why we need you to take care of yourself. We all need you around here.”

She tried to smile but Bass was helping her sit on the bed and Miles was stripping her shoes off her and the queasiness in her stomach was fighting a losing battle with the heaviness of her eyes and she felt herself drifting away.

 

When she woke Gene was sitting in the chair next to her bed, a book in his hand. He dropped it as she tried to sit up, head pounding a little but the sick feeling was gone from her stomach. He handed her a glass of water and she drank it slowly. “What time is it?” she asked.

“About three. I decided you were better off just sleeping . Monroe made you soup. Could you eat some? ”

She nodded. “Yeah, I think I could.”

“Good. I’ll get it. Drink more water.” He disappeared and came back a few minutes with a bowl of warm venison broth with rice and chunks of onion. “It’s not chicken,” Gene said, “but it’s not bad.”

“Where is he?”

“Monroe? Somewhere out with Miles, no doubt plotting to murder me in my sleep.” At her look he shrugged. “I was probably a little out of line earlier and he’s still pissed at me. I wanted to watch how you were doing and the room really isn’t big enough for both of us right now so I threw him out. Doctor’s privilege. Though I’m not even really sure that would have been enough if Miles hadn’t dragged him away.” The broth was on the bland side but that was probably best, Charlie decided. “I actually overplayed the dehydration angle downstairs – though you were a little. But I wanted to wait to talk till he wasn’t around. You really do need to take better care of yourself. You push yourself so hard.”

“It’s not his fault.”

“Maybe not directly. But you seem so intent on proving to him and Miles you’re as tough as they are. But tough can sometimes mean stupid. Do you know how close Miles’ came to losing his hand? If it wouldn’t have been for the antibiotics I kept dosing him with, there’d have been almost no hope for it. As for Monroe, he’s so strained right now I’m surprised he hasn’t spontaneously combusted. Now, I know you all are going to have to head off again soon and you won’t have the luxury of spending a day resting. Which is why it’s important that you take some downtime while it’s offered. And that’s not being weak; it’s about being a good Solider.” He leaned over to touch her on the shoulder. “We all need you. Can you imagine how much they’d all fall apart if something happened to you?”

“I’m not some cosmic glue. I don’t think either of them really needs anyone but each other.”

“Cuz that worked out so well the last time?” He patted her gently on the shoulder. “You may not see it, but there’s still a lot between them that isn’t right yet?”

“How can you tell?” She abandoned the spoon and settled for taking small sips directly from the bowl.

“Because I knew what they were like before the Blackout. I never saw two people more in step than those two. Didn’t matter what was going on, it was always about each other. Or so it seemed. Apparently there was some things even I didn’t see.” She wanted to ask more but Gene patted her shoulder. “That was a long time ago. They’re harnessed to the same cause, but they’re not really pulling together yet.”

Her grandfather was entitled to his opinion, she decided. But she privately thought different. People were expecting them to think, act and talk alike, but they seemed strongest when they could bounce ideas off each other. Gene took the bowl she handed him. “I think I just want to sleep a little more.”

“Sleep would be good for you. I’ll bring dinner up in a few hours. Just get some rest.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. 

 

Despite Gene’s protests, Charlie insisted on getting up for dinner. She still felt a little tired but had no problem on the stairs. Dinner was more of the venison and rice soup – though it had more salt and garlic than the version she’d eaten for lunch.

At first the quiet at the table was soothing for her head, which still did ache a little, but as the meal progressed, she became more aware of the strain. “So what did I miss this afternoon?” she finally asked.

“Missed?” Rachel questioned.

“Last night we were all talking so much we could hardly head each other.”

“We’ve been worried about you.” Gene said and Charlie snorted.

“Do you really expect me to believe that’s all? Even he,” she waved at Jeremy, “has shut up.”

Jeremy face, as he turned to her, was innocent and confused, which was enough of its own to convince her there was something wrong. “Who me?”

“I might,” Bass said slowly, “have been a bit more. . .direct, talking to Gene earlier, than I should have been.”

Gene shrugged. “I was out of line. And I knew it. I felt bad for missing the fact she was sick and I was lashing out.”

The two men nodded, and Rachel and Jeremy both looked happier but Miles grimaced.

“This is what I have been afraid of. We’re all in each other’s pockets and it’s starting to show a little. What we need is a break.”

“How can we get a break?” Rachel asked. “We’ve probably got Carissa coming to stay.”

Bass sighed. “I’m a little worried about that too. How much is she going to be able to tell we’re pissed at each other and that’s going to blow our credibility a little?”

Miles opened his mouth, closed it again, took a deep breath and turned to Charlie. “How are you feeling?”

“A lot better. Why?”

“Up to riding for a couple of days?”

She shrugged. “Should be. What’s up?”

“Well, we could all use a bit of a breather. And I have a promise to Bass I need to fulfill.”

Bass was utterly frozen with his spoon half-way to his mouth. He finally seemed to realize it and set it back into the bowl. “Can we. . .wouldn’t it be a problem if we. . .I . . . .” He trailed off. 

“It’s probably better now anyway,” Miles said. “He’s in Mexico so better now than after we go to D.C. and have to come back.”

“Mexico?” Bass looked stunned. “Why Mexico.”

“Because Emma’s brother and sister-in-law lived in Mexico. I took him to them.”

The look on Monroe’s face didn’t change but there was a sudden intensity to it and his voice was grating. “Miles, you went to Mexico a year before. . .was that when?”

Miles nodded, face twisted and Bass’ chair shoved back from the table abruptly, falling over behind him.

“A year before you left? Really? You know, I got it, if it would have happened in those six years you were gone. But a year before you even left.” He partially tripped over his chair in his haste to get away from it. Half-way out of the dining room he whirled back behind. “Was I really that crazy, or were you just pissed at me for what happened with Emma in the first place?”

“Bass.” Miles’ tone was gentle. 

“I don’t even want to hear it right now. You and I will have plenty of time to discuss it tomorrow on our way to Mexico.” Charlie stared to stand but he shook his head at her. “I really just want a bit of time to myself right now,” he snapped at her.

Charlie glanced at Miles, who nodded. “Yeah,” Miles said as the door slammed. “I thought he was going to be pretty pissed about that.” He looked over at Jeremy. “Sorry to stick you with babysitting duty. I know flipping Carissa was my idea, and now I’m ditching you with it.

“That’s nothing new,” Jeremy said. “You’ve been doing that for years. But no, seriously, he’s been a little wound lately. This trip should be good for him.”

“Unless it goes badly,” Rachel said, her voice quiet. “What do we do if his son rejects him?”

Miles face was bleak and he and Jeremy exchanged small nods. “Well then maybe it’s better if Carissa never knows ‘James’ was Monroe. If he’s going to fall apart on us again, we need to know it soon.”

What exactly they meant by that, Charlie realized she was going be much happier not asking.

 

She was asleep when Monroe came in that night, only waking when he crawled into bed . He made no attempt to touch her, though he didn’t push her away when she moved closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “You okay?” she whispered.

“Do you mind if we don’t talk about it?” he asked, his voice quiet but closed down.

She wanted to tell him that no, it was not okay, but she remembered some of the things he had put up from her related to not communicating and she snuggled deeper in the pocket of his shoulder. He lay rigid against her for about twenty minutes but then his breathing softened and he turned onto his side, arms pulling her close to his chest and she finally allowed herself to relax. Whatever anger at Miles that was spilling over onto her was something she could deal with if he still needed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty rough and will need some polishing. . .but I'm at a conference for work and have been without internet for several days. I just happened to pick up a wifi signal from down the street so I'm taking advantage of it while I can.


	19. Chapter 19

She felt Bass’ hands in her hair before she was even really awake. He was digging his fingers into her scalp and she felt her body reacting to his touch. She turned, nuzzling at his neck but he jerked away, eyes widening and she realized he’d been asleep. She tried catching his hand but he was out of reach in seconds and she bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, trying to remind herself of the days she’d pulled away from him.

She forced herself to lean back against the pillows, blanket splayed a little sideways to her shoulders, the tops of her breasts and one hip was exposed. He was yanking on his clothes, motions jerky for a man who was usually so smooth but he also kept darting glances at her. “What the hell, Charlie?” he snapped and she sat up.

“I get that you’re mad at Miles. I don’t understand why you’re mad at me too?”

“Because you’re just like Miles.”

“So what happened to – day before yesterday – you telling me you wanted to know me for myself?”

“I was deluding myself.” He was still staring at her and suddenly swore, pulling his shirt back over his head. He angled his body over her but his kiss was rough. 

She let him bruise her lips into her teeth, trying to relax. His hands were demanding, sliding along her sides and under her hips to tilt her up. His entry into made her shiver but she realized the sensation was fear, not pleasure. It wasn’t fear of him hurting her; even with his palpable anger he was being gentle – more even than normal. It was fear that he was slipping away from her and she wondered if he had felt the same when Jeremy had told her she was shutting him out.

He shuddered, groaning into her neck as he came, pulling away from her before she was even close to sated. He brushed his knuckles over her cheek but rolled away. She tucked the sheet back around her, cold from loss of his hot skin. He didn’t turn back to look at her until he got to the door, his features forced into a smile. He gave her a quick nod before shutting the door. He wouldn’t be back, she realized, until he had worked through whatever force was driving him. She wished she could be angry, to allow the rage to dull the hollow of pain that felt like it was pressing on her soul. But – she pulled his pillow close, inhaling in scent – she understood his emotions, even if she didn’t agree with them. She had once blamed him for the loss of her father and brother; through Miles, he blamed her for the loss of his son. But she was not going to allow Sebastian Monroe to take anyone else she cared about from her. . .even if that someone was himself.

 

Breakfast that morning was a chunk of cheese rolled between a slab of bread, walking out the door with her crossbow slung over her shoulder. It was late to find game but she needed to be out of the house. Her throat ached at the thought of him asking—just two days before – if he could go with her while she hunted and that he loved watching her move. 

But as much as she wanted to be angry with him, she actually understood his reaction. No matter how much they told each other the relationship was about more than Miles, there was no way to pretend both their histories didn’t revolve around him and that they didn’t both rely on their attachment to him to maintain their attachment to each other. 

She wandered the woods for the better part of an hour without seeing anything so she found a tree with good branches and swung up into the limbs until she found one with several close together. Settling her back against the trunk and her head against another limb, she fell asleep.

She dreamed of Danny, which was common, but he was usually either gasping for breath or being thrown back by the line of bullets across his torso. This time he was seated in the desk chair in her room, his face a little worried as he stared at the empty bed. “You’re worried he’s not coming back, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

She remembered Miles finally telling her about the hallucination he’d had of Monroe in the tunnel under Philadelphia; where Bass had been the one to question Miles sanity. At the time she’d been surprised he’d imagined Monroe as his conscience but Ben and Danny were often hers. She’d been dreaming of them less, she realized, since she and Bass had become lovers. “Yeah, a little. Which is wrong, considering what he did to you.”

Danny shrugged. “You told me to sit that one out. That you had a bad feeling about it. Charlie, do you realize how wrong it was that Mom never turned the power back on, for fifteen years, because that was what was keeping me alive. “ She wondered if Danny – had he really been there – would have been so nonchalant about relationship with his killer. “Stop it,” Danny snapped. “He didn’t kill me. He wasn’t even there. He wasn’t there with Dad, either.”

She’d told herself that, so many times since she’d agreed to bring him to Willoughby. Clearly, she’d managed to convince herself if she could even bring herself to believe that Danny would say that. “Charlie?” It was Miles’ voice, even if it was her brother speaking and she jerked away to find Miles standing at the base of the tree, starting up at her. “Hey, what are you doing up there? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

She scrambled back down the tree to lean against the trunk and look up at her Uncle. “I needed out of the house.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that. Bass and I already talked this morning. He seems pretty upset at both of us, which is stupid, because you had nothing to do with it. But he’s not being logical right now. He’ll get over it,” Miles sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that, “but he’ll be a pain in the ass in the meantime. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “Kind of figured. That’s okay, to hear Jeremy tell it, it’s probably my turn. So what now?”

“ Well I went to talk to Truman today. Told him a friend of mine had sent me a letter that my ex-fiancé’s kid – the one I’ve been trying to track for a while because I don’t know he’s mine or not – is in Mexico. So I’m going to be taking a little trip to see if I can find out if I have a son or not.”

“What’d he say about that?”

“Seemed a little surprised I had an ex-fiancé. I made him think that Jeremy was a phase I went through after the Blackout and I was just so glad to find him alive I reverted. Anyway, I gave the whole story about finding Emma not being allowed to tell me she was pregnant when I was in Basic and that I didn’t find out till just before she was killed by a Georgian Soldier trying to take out Monroe. If he didn’t believe me, he sure didn’t show it. I think I was managing to channel Bass a little bit in my ‘I have a son I’ve never met’ angst. Told him that Jeremy and Rachel would be able to deal with any meat shipments that came in while I was gone but that it wouldn’t be more than a week or so. “

“Am I coming too?”

“If you’re up to it. I actually could really use your help with him.”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure how much help I can be. He made it pretty clear this morning that I was not his favorite person.”

Miles grimaced. “You probably don’t see it, but the rest of us do. Even when the two of you are fighting, he still does better for you that he does for any of us. I told Truman I was taking James along in case we ran into trouble and that you were coming with us for the heck of it. If he saw anything suspicious about it, he did a good job of hiding it.”

“When do we leave.”

“Well, yesterday if Bass had his way. But I figured tomorrow morning would be soon enough. It’s take about two days to get there, another two to get back and hopefully just a day or two there. “

She shrugged, the thought of living out of a backpack again both comforting and a little worrying. She’d once thought Chicago would be the farthest she’d ever make it from home and she’d ended up in Texas. She wondered where this trip would conclude.

 

Monroe had made a venison-pie but he wasn’t at the table at dinner. Charlie finished eating and went to pack, not sure if she’d see him but he came in to their room about an hour after she’ finished. He nodded at her, grabbing clothes out of his dresser and shoving them into a set of saddle-bags. “Have you seen my blue jacket?” he asked after he’d been in there nearly five minutes and she bit her lip.

“I think you put it in the hall closet.” He started to move towards the door and she put a hand on his arm and he tensed but suddenly his arms were around her and he was clutching her to him. He held her for a long time before he stepped back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. But. . .can you let me have a couple of days, to work through this? It’s like I can’t be nice to you and not blame you for what he did, even though I know you’ve done nothing.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak and he leaned in to kiss her on the top of her head. “I promise, I’ll try to make this up to you later.”

She cleared her throat and finally managed, “how about just putting up with me when it’s my turn to have a mood.” His grin briefly lit his face before he nodded.

“Deal. Don’t wait up for me.” His kiss on her cheek was feather-soft before he grabbed his saddle bags and she heard him walk down the stairs. He hadn’t said, but she knew she’d be sleeping alone that night.

 

“Excuse moi?” Charlie hadn’t heard much Mexican, but she’d heard enough to know what probably wasn’t quite right. Suddenly Bass snarled, stood up, pulled the AK-47 and hit the man in the face with it. He reversed the weapon, pointed it in the face of the driver and gestured for him to get out of the wagon. The man practically jumped off the seat and Bass looked around at the other occupants of the wagon. “Congratulations, you’ve made it to Mexico. Go enjoy the Mexican Dream. Go, go.” The other occupants seemed as happy to jump off the wagon as the driver had and Monroe grinned. “Well, now we’ve got ourselves a wagon.” He clucked to the horses but Charlie grabbed his arm. 

“Are we really planning on stranding these people here with no food or water? Really?”

The grin faded and he looked guilty for a moment before that mulish look she was so used to on Miles took over. “I have to find my son.”

“And these people are also sons of someone else. Would you like it if Connor was dead because some asshole didn’t care about him.”

Miles was digging under the seats and came up with a full canteen and a sack containing raw potatoes which he handed off to one of the workers. “It won’t taste good. But it’ll keep you going until you can get back to whatever ranch you were headed to,” he commented and the man nodded, hurrying back over to where the driver was trying to help the former guard to his feet. 

 

“Uh, Bass.”

“Wow, So this cockfighting ring of hell, this is all yours? I’m impressed, really. Look at this man. Is this not,” Bass voice, sarcastic and bitter, wasn’t quiet. “the whitest Mexican in Mexico.”

“Bass.”

“What!” He sounded furious as he glared at the man in front of him.

Maybe it was because she was seeing the two of them in profile. Maybe it was because she’d seen Emma , but Charlie wasn’t surprised when Miles said, “That’s him.”

 

Miles was asleep and she was supposed to be too but she heard Bass walk away from the fire. She gave him a short head start before she slipped out of her blanket. She darted over to Miles and shook him awake – not wanting to leave him without a watch but she pressed her fingers to her lips and shook her head when he started to rise. She made sure to give Monroe plenty of space, keeping in shadows and going more by instinct. She wasn’t at all surprised when she finally saw him talking to Connor outside a bad and she edged close enough to be able to hear them, her whole body going cold at his words. “You are a Monroe. You should be leading the Republic.” She missed what he said next as she slipped from the doorway to circle around behind where she could see men starting to gather, Bass’ voice raising. “You and me, together, we can take it back. You’re my son. And that’s in your blood. There’s no escaping that.”

“Sorry, Dad. Going to have to take a rain check” Connor smirked and she trembled hearing the bitterness in his voice. “Mr. Nunez is going to want to meet you.”

The men moved and there were five of them, all armed, but she was mostly concerned with the two carrying rifles. A shadow across the street wavered and detached from the wall and she recognized the way Miles moved. 

She sent an arrow into the post a few feet away from Connor’s head and reloaded as he whipped around to face her . “That’s enough,” she snapped. “Let him go.” She shifted her aim to one of the riflemen. “That miss was on purpose.”

“Charlie, what are you doing here?” He sounded more angry than she expected.

“Not letting you get caught and sold to the highest bidder, Bass.” He glared at her but she ignored him. 

“Did you ever think maybe I don’t want you to show up and take over. That maybe this was my plan all along.”

“If it was the plan than you should have shared it with Miles and I.” Miles attacked, hitting both the riflemen in the heads with his sword hilt, knocking them out and getting one of the pistol carriers in the solar plexus before going back-to-back with Bass as Connor and another man started to close in. Charlie wasn’t worried about other man – she could put an arrow into his skull easily from this range but Connor was another story. No matter how much she wanted him to disappear; she wouldn’t be the one to kill him. One of the two carrying a pistol started to move and Monroe grabbed him, either breaking his arm or dislocating his shoulder, based on the loud pop and sharp yelp but he went down and didn’t get back up, his moans muted whimpers.

Miles had his sword against Connor’s throat before Charlie even saw him move and he jerked his head at the last man and his pistol. “Go ahead, put it down. Or the girl puts an arrow in you. Which I don’t think is fair, considering all your buddies just got knocked out. “

“He’s bluffing,” Connor snapped and Miles sighed.

“You, I admit, I can’t kill you. Do you think he,” his head jerked at Monroe, ”would give a rat’s ass what happens to your goon?”

The man looked uncertain but he dropped his pistol and Bass walked up to him. He went to his knees in front of Bass, looking away and he slammed him in the back of the head with the rifle he’d picked up.

“So,” Miles was already tying Connor’s hands behind him. “You said Nunez was going to want to meet Bass. Does he know he’s here?”

Connor shook his head. “I was going to make him a present to Mr. Nunez. Sebastian Monroe’s head on a plate. He may be a washed-up has-been but he’d still fetch a nice price.” His gaze went sharp. “But maybe I counted him out too fast. If he wasn’t a threat, why would you be so worried?” Miles had finished tying Connor’s hands and went to work on his feet.

Bass was glaring at all of them, his face feral but he didn’t try to stop any of them and Charlie wondered what sort of internal war he had to be fighting with himself.

Miles grinned but it wasn’t friendly. “Just so you know, I’ve known your father since we were boys. And if you make the mistake of thinking that just because he has no army today, that he isn’t a threat. . .well. If he says he could rebuild his Army, he could rebuild his Army. And he’d do it for you. But you’re nothing more than a thug, just like he said. I’d have expected better from any son of Emma’s. Come on Bass, we’re going.”

Bass shook his head. “I’m staying.”

When Miles stood, even Charlie fell back a step, and he wasn’t even looking at her. “I said we’re going.” She’d seen him be General Matheson plenty of times, but there was something in his gaze that frightened even her. “And you’re coming with us. Or I swear, I’m taking you back to Texas unconscious. You’ve given the kid something to think about. We’re camped by the lake tonight, and if he wants to come find us – alone – “ the last was directed at Connor, “we can deal. He has until sunset tomorrow night.”

Monroe looked like he was about to argue but he turned and Miles and Charlie followed him back to their campsite Monroe immediately went to his bedroll and laid down, back to them and Miles sighed.

“It’s stupid to stay here,” Charlie said, sitting down on the fallen log Bass had been using at a seat earlier. 

“I know. But we can’t leave yet. If we take him away tonight before he knows for sure, he’ll never forgive either of us.”

“And when the bastard comes riding down to sell you and Bass as a matched set, what do we do then.” 

Miles shook his head. “He won’t. He’s going to show up tomorrow looking for the Army his daddy promised him. Trust me. Emma’s son? Way too smart to go for a mere 30 pieces of silver when he could have world domination.”

She and Miles traded watches between, though she realized eventually that Monroe was still awake, even if he was pretending to be asleep. She didn’t know whether to be relieved he didn’t try to talk her into letting him leave while Miles slept or worried that he didn’t respond when she adjusted his blanket and kissed him on the temple.

It wasn’t until morning that Bass even looked at them. “I couldn’t just let them take you,” Miles said, his voice gentle. “You know that.”

“No, Miles, I don’t know that. You know what, I think I’m done letting you do me favors. In fact, I’m done with both of you. Just go back to Texas. I promise he and I will take care of the Patriots while we’re re-forming the Republic and if you stay in Texas, you shouldn’t have to deal with us. I’ll leave Texas alone, for your sake. But that’s the last concession I’ll ever make for you.”

“Bass.” Charlie tried to keep her voice calm but he whipped around, his glare at her even more furious than the one he’d directed at Miles and she stepped back involuntarily. “What happened to you not wanting to ever do this.”

“What else do I have to offer him?” Monroe shouted, waving his arms. “He’s my son and I have never been there for him, because Miles never told me he existed. Do you imagine you’re the only one who has family?”

“I thought we were your family?”

“Fuck,” Bass snarled. “Now I remember why I hate dating twenty year olds. So immature.” He began shoving everything in his pack, making no attempt at order.

“Where are you going?” Miles asked and Monroe shook his head.

“Where do you think. I’m going to get my son. You and yours. . .I don’t care what you do with yourselves. I’m done with the bullshit from both of you.”

She felt frozen as she watched him finish knotting the cords on his pack and stomp over to his horse. He yanked the reins sharply and the mare threw her head back but his grip was solid and he started to turn her towards him when Charlie was finally able to move. She was barely aware that she was walking towards him but she stopped when she was about a foot back. “Can we talk about this?”

“Nothing to talk about. See you in hell, Charlotte.”

“Let’s see you say that to my face,” she snapped and as he whirled towards she struck, smacking him hard in the forehead with the solid butt-stock of her crossbow. He went down like a bag of dropped laundry, though she was pretty sure he didn’t actually lose consciousness. 

“Charlie,” Miles bellowed. “What the hell are you doing?” Monroe struggled to stand and actually got half-way to his feet before he went back to his knees in the dirt. He was glaring at her but she was pretty sure both his pupils weren’t tracking evenly. “If he wants to throw his life away again, we can’t stop him.”

“Really? Watch me. And this has nothing to do with being an immature twenty-year old – who’s actually twenty-two . I promised him that I wouldn’t let him be General Monroe again and I don’t care if we have to strap him to the damn wagon, he’s coming with us. I promised him that.” She was crying, she realized, and she didn’t even care. 

Miles’ face was shuttered and she wasn’t sure he was listening but the soft voice at her feet was just barely above a whisper. “She did promise.” It was Bass again, staring at her from the brilliant blue eyes and she dropped to her knees beside him. The anger fled, replaced by burning fear but he fumbled an arm around her and leaned hard onto her shoulder. “Anyone ever tell you that you throw one hell of a crossbow?” he mumbled. She’d hit off-center, she realized, the left side of his forehead over his eye already starting to discolor. The skin had split, whether from the force of the blow or the edge of the butt-stock she couldn’t tell.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re more reasonable when you have a concussion?” His smile was vague but he actually huffed a laugh.

“No. But prob’ly true.” He leaned a little more his weight on her and she slumped down into a sitting positing, cradling his head on her shoulder. He titled his head up to smile at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” It seemed oddly formal when she’s just bashed him in the head but one of his hands patted clumsily at her face and she felt him smearing her tears. “I promised you, no matter how bad.”

He sat up a bit, flexing his shoulders. “It got pretty bad, didn’t it?” She nodded and suddenly his arms were back around her again. “Thank you.”

Miles was watching them both, face suspicious and she turned to look at Monroe but whether it actually really was the concussion or if he understood her promise of no matter what, the man cuddled against her side really seemed to be Bass again.

 

It was just after noon when Connor arrived, his horse an average bay gelding that Charlie was relieved to see wasn’t distinctive. He reined it to a stop, glaring down at Monroe from the saddle like he expected something. When Bass didn’t react, he dismounted, looking annoyed. “So what was this you were saying about giving me the Republic?”

“That’s off the table,” Bass said calmly. “Republic’s gone. But I have a different deal for you.”

“What do you mean it’s off the table?” The man’s face twisted. “Then you can forget it all, old man. I don’t need your deals and if you don’t have men to offer me, I don’t need you either.”

“What about me?” Charlie asked and it made them all jump. Connor’s eyes swung to track her. 

“This is your trade for the Monroe Republic? A pretty whore? I can find those anywhere.”

“But do you?” Charlie asked. Connor was so focused on her with barely-repressed fury that he appeared to be missing the looks of annoyance and confusion Monroe was shooting at her.

“Do I what?”

“Find pretty girls. Maybe you have someone special? A child of your own?”

The brief flash of blatant longing that he covered almost immediately with contempt was all the answer she needed. “Don’t need them.” He sounded hard but she knew he was lying.

“So what’s to stop you trying me too? I admit, I’m curious how you compare.”

He grabbed her shoulders and slammed her hard against the side of the wagon, pinning her body against the wooden wheels. His lips crushed down on hers, his tongue forcing into her mouth. It was a brutal kiss; all hatred and bitterness and she ignored it to work a hand into the crevice of the wheel where she’d rested her crossbow. As he started to step back she slammed the butt-stock into his forehead. It hid dead center and he passed out, falling heavily onto her.

“What did you do?” Monroe howled and she grabbed Conner by the shoulders and succeeded in lowering him –more or less gently.

“Hitting Monroe men in the face is becoming addictive. Especially when you’re being douches. Come on, help me get him tied up and into the wagon.” Neither man moved. “Oh, don’t you two start on me. Did you think I really wanted him to kiss me? I was trying to distract him and making sure there wasn’t anyone we needed to grab while we’re abducting him.”

They got Conner tied in as many ways as they could all think of, searching him for any possible weapons but Charlie could tell from Bass’ face something was wrong and it wasn’t until Miles had the horses saddled that he shook his head. “I have to go do something first?”

“What the hell, Bass,” Miles snapped. “We’re on a tight enough timeline as it is? Once Nunez misses Connor, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. We can ride out of here but someone will still pay it. . .and I can’t live with doing that to someone.”

“You’ve done nothing but complain about this town since we entered it,” Miles sighed. “Why do you start caring about it now?”

“It’s not just the town. Miles, imagine what I would have done if you wouldn’t have come in to kill me that night. If you’d just chosen to disappear. What would I have done to the world to try to find you? Now, don’t know that Connor means that much to Nunez. . .but I can’t risk it. And perhaps he’ll want to come back here. I don’t want him getting a bullet in the head because I was selfish.”

“So what are you planning on doing? Just walking in and telling Nunez you’re taking his guy?” When Bass didn’t reply, Miles groaned. “That’s really what you’re planning, isn’t it. Bass, think about it. This is insane. Possibly suicidal.”

Bass shrugged, checking his sword belt and helping himself to the sidearm and shotgun that Conner had been carrying. “Brother, you know I have to do this.”

Miles growled. “Well then I’m coming with you.”

Monroe shook his head. “No, you’re staying with my son. Just in case someone finds you while Charlie and I are gone. That is,” he turned and looked at Charlie, “you’re willing to come with me.”

“So if Nunez’ men slit your throat and take her to the local bordello, what the hell am I suppose to do then?” When he got no response he snapped, “Bass, be reasonable.”

“Charlie?” Monroe’s voice was hard but his eyes were pleading and she nodded at him.

“If you hear of me in the local bordello,” Charlie said, checking the number of arrows in her quiver, though she was almost amused by the fact she’s used it twice within a day with decisive results as a hammer against Monroe skulls. Bass held out a rifle and she hung the sling, making sure it didn’t interfere with her crossbow. “Then you’d better try to find someone really good at sewing hands, noses and other things back on their owners.”

Miles winced. “I still don’t like this.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Monroe said. “Throw something over him and drive us into town. You can wait with the wagon nearby and if you hear it getting bad, I’ll accept you doing what you think is best.”

“Do you really think he’s going to listen to you reason that he’s your son and you deserve to have him back?”

“No. But I believe he’ll listen to General Monroe coming for what is his.”

“If he doesn’t decide to take the Patriot Bounty on you. You do know his puts a sighting of you on the map for the Patriots to try to track down. Six ounces of diamonds is going to tempt a lot of people.”

“Then a lot of people are going to get their throats cut for being greedy and nosy.”

 

It took Charlie about an hour questioning around town to discover that Senor Nunez’ house was frequently open for guests and she and Bass blended into the crowds being admitted through the gates of a hacienda that made her shiver in a dread she couldn’t identify until she realized it reminded her of the last walled estate where she’d been a guest.

“You okay,” Bass asked. He found them an empty table near a pool where a band was playing something in Spanish.

“Reminds me of Drexel’s. That didn’t turn out well.”

“Miles took you to meet Drexel?” Bass sounded shocked.

“It wasn’t because he wanted to. Nora was dying and Drexel was the closest help he knew.”

“So was that why Drexel was found shot dead on his own grounds. Stupid bastard should have known not to mess with Miles.”

“It wasn’t Miles. It was Aaron.”

Monroe’s eyes widened and he actually laughed – the first real laugh she’d heard from him in days. “Aaron? Our Aaron? Wait a minute, Drexel was shot, not lit on fire.” 

“Yes he was. So remember that, the next time you’re tempted to count Aaron out. He can surprise you sometimes.”

“Do you believe this whole lighting people on fire with their mind thing?” He was leaned in close, practically whispering at her.

“Miles said he saw it himself. And Cynthia’s first husband did die in a fire right after he tried to hurt Aaron.”

Bass rose, taking her hand and pulling her out to dance with him. She felt awkward but he spun her into his arms and she realized the steps didn’t matter nearly as much as just moving her body to the rhythm. It wasn’t entirely unlike riding – though she wasn’t the most gifted on horseback either – but Bass pulled her closer to him, kissing her, his hands against her back and butt. People tittered at his open display of lust which – as he started steering her towards the house – she realized was the entire idea.

Once they were inside he kept up his frantic assault at her mouth, people moving out of his way as he pushed open doors randomly. Every time someone would leave to give them privacy he would lead her further into the house. Eventually he shoved open a set of doors that led into an office and he pushed her in, head at her throat and an amused voice said, “Excuse me, but this is my office. I must ask you take your lady to another room.” Charlie looked up to see a tall man with dark hair and eyes and a close-cropped beard liberally salted with gray.

Bass raised his head. “Oh, sorry, Pal. Hey, are you Nunez?”

“I am indeed.” The man rose from the desk. “There are plenty of rooms for you and your friend other than my office. I don’t recognize you.” His eyes went hard. “Where did you get that pistol?” He waved his hand at Bass’ waistband.

“Do you recognize it?” Bass asked, voice cool, even if she could still feel his erection against her hip. 

“It was mine once. ”

Monroe smiled tightly. “Then you know why I’m really here. ”

‘Where is Connor Bennett?” The cultured voice had gone flat and he stepped away from his desk but his hands are empty.

“He’s safe. But we need to have a talk about him. He won’t be back.”

“I am intrigued. No man takes something from me and then comes to gloat. I would think you were just here to sell me information about him. . .but you’re wearing his weapon. So either whoever took him was stupid enough to leave them lying around. Or you’re. . .I’m not sure what you are actually.” His English was nearly flawless, just the overtones of an accent that Charlie found pleasant.

“I’m the man who has Connor Bennett,” Bass confirmed and Charlie tensed but Nunez didn’t move.

“Ransom? No, not ransom. You’d have sent underlings. You might be someone ele’s. . .” Nunez shook his head. “But you’re no one’s underling.” His eyes flicked to Charlie. “Perhaps you’re a father who’s daughter fell for a smooth tongue. A baby, perhaps, and you’re demanding he marry her? I’d have thought that but most fathers don’t kiss their daughters like you were kissing her, even if it was obviously a ploy to get in here.” Bass’ jaw clenched and Charlie bit her tongue to keep from laughing both at the look on his face and the way Nunez suddenly looked amused. “Not her father. But Connor does have a smooth tongue. Revenge for cutting in on your woman?” It was a perfect excuse, except, she realized, Bass’ pride sometimes was going to get them in trouble. “No, you wouldn’t have come to boast about that either.”

“She does fall for a smooth tongue. And this does involve a baby. But not hers. Once upon a time , twenty-six years ago, another woman fell for a man who was no better than he should be and had a baby. But no one demanded he marry her. In fact, he only found out a year ago that a child existed. All grown up.”

One of Nunez’ eyebrows arched. “We were told Connor’s father was dead.”

“I’m sure a lot of people wish I was. But they’re going to just have to wait a little longer.”

Nunez leaned. “So, I know what you are now. But I still don’t know why. A sensible man doesn’t confess to taking something of mine.”

“Because someone I cared about once left and no one ever told me why. I went crazy trying to understand it. And when I say crazy, I am not just using the expression lightly. I thought you should know Connor didn’t leave you by choice. And perhaps one day he’ll choose to return to you. But I’m not offering that choice right now.

“As I said, a sensible person doesn’t take what is mine.” Nunez’s voice was cold, all trace of his earlier humor gone.

Bass’ shoulders tensed, leaning forward slightly. She may well have not even existed for all he and Nunez appeared to be staring each other down.

“And a sensible person also doesn’t take what belongs to General Sebastian Monroe either. “

Nunez’ face looked confused, as if he didn’t see what Monroe had to do with anything but she could see the instant he understood. He jerked upright “I believe Connor is your son. He shares enough of your face for that to be evident. But as for you being General Monroe? A fairy story to frighten children. Obey your parents, or General Monroe will come over the border at night and steal you from your bed while you sleep. Eat your vegetables, or General Monroe will burn the crops and your family will starve.”

“Nice to know I’m appreciated in Mexico,” Bass chucked, though there was very little humor in his tone. “But what you believe doesn’t make a difference. I will have my son back. I just chose to do you the courtesy of letting you know why he is gone.”

Nunez’s lips started to twist, but suddenly he took a deep breath and his features smoothed out again. “The great betrayal of General Matheson. That’s what you meant, wasn’t it? About someone leaving and you not knowing why?”

Bass nodded. “I tried to destroy the world over it. Fortunately General Matheson had other plans for me. But I could do it again, raise another army. Forget the east coasts with its bomb damage and cold winters. Settle here. How long do you think it would take me to conquer Mexico from you and those like you?”

“You know you’re worth a great deal?’ Nunez said.

Bass nodded. “And someday, someone may even get to collect on it. But not you or yours. Not on this day. So what’s it to be, Nunez? Do I ride out of here today or do I start raising an army to take over the Mexican government tomorrow?”

He sounded so sure of himself Charlie winced and Nunez turned to look at her. “And maybe we could see how many of my men you kill before one of them manages to kill you and I take your woman into my bed?”

Bass shrugged. “You could do that, yes. But I promise, you wouldn’t like the way the evening would end? Because if she didn’t kill you, her Uncle would. I’d be dead, so I couldn’t bet who’d get you first. Which might not be the worst thing because I really don’t know which Matheson I’d want to bet on.”

“Matheson?” Nunez looked suddenly concerned.

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot the introductions. This is Charlie Matheson. You may have heard of her Uncle.”

“General Matheson is here?”

Monroe shrugged. “Had to leave someone with my son, didn’t I? But don’t worry. He won’t be far away. Miles hates it when I win a fight without him being able to say he backed me up.”

“But General Matheson tried to kill you? You fought a war against him. Even here we knew of the armies of Georgia and Monroe. Of the two men who had been best friends for years who fought against each other.

“As you said, best friends. Since we were children. What’s five years worth over our entire lifetime? So we’ll be leaving now, both of us. And you won’t try to stop us. Or does she share in your bed tonight after all. . .with me?”

Nunez titled his head sideways and jerked his chin at the door. “I will not stop you.”

Bass seemed to consider his words for a moment then sighed heavily. “Sorry. It’s not that. . .oh hell, I’d like to believe you. And if it was just me, I’d take the chance. But I have to think about her too. No hard feelings?” Nunez grimaced but didn’t move when Bass walked over and hit him over the head with the pistol. He slumped in his chair and Bass looked around the room. “Why does it feel like – between you, me and Miles, all we’ve done for the last few days is knock people out?”

Charlie shrugged. “Look on the bright side. We’ve come to Mexico, gotten your son. . .though even I’m not quite sure what we’re going to do with him. He has no reason to not just come straight back here. Smoothed things over with the local warlord and are about to get the hell back out of Mexico. And we haven’t killed anyone.”

“Unless we gave someone an aneurysm,” Bass grumbled, taking her hand and leading her out of Nunez’s office. But he looked slightly more cheerful. “So I’m making progress, right. Two years ago I’d have just slit everyone’s throats. Just don’t expect this reform to be permanent. Once we go to war with the Patriots for real, I’m going back to shooting people in the face.”

They made their way back through the house, the number of people had increased in the time they’d been in Nunez’ office. At Drexel’s the sycophants had clearly been under the influence of his heroin. Other than the tequila that was being server freely, everyone just seemed to be at Nunez’s for the party. It was, she decided, something perhaps to ask Connor about later, if she got the chance.

“So what are we going to do with your son?” she asked as they wandered back out the gate, his body pressed against hers, his lips at her throat for the benefit – no doubt – of the guards. A few of them grinned at them and one of them pointed at Charlie then himself and patted his pocket.

“I have an idea.” The horses were still by the bar and he grabbed his reins, mounting in one even sweep that she always envied. She wasn’t sure if it were his greater height, or the fact he’d had many more chances to ride over the last decade or so than she had. Charlie’s scramble up onto her horse wasn’t graceful but she smiled a little because it seemed a tiny bit easier every time. 

They rendezvoused with Miles in the wagon, who glared at them both. “Can we go now, please.” They set the horses off at a trot and Charlie guided her horse over to where she could see Connor, still tied in the bed of the wagon.

“Um,” she called over the noise of the wheels. “How exactly are we supposed to get him back over the border with us like this?”

“I don’t know, Charlie,” Miles griped, his voice even more sarcastic than normal. “You were the one to hit him in the head. I was assuming you had some kind of plan.”

“I kind of ran out of ideas after the whole hitting in the head thing. We’ve all been kind of focused on that lately.”

“Leave that part to me,” Bass said, riding over to the other side of the wagon and glancing down at his son. “I said the Republic’s off the table. And I meant that. But if he wants power, that we can do.”

Miles and Charlie both turned to stare and him and he shrugged. “Not sure what you guys down here in Mexico have heard about these so-called Patriots. Red-white-and-blue cockroaches, if you ask me, hiding behind the flag and a bunch of mumbo-jumbo to stir people up. But they’ve been effective in getting people to believe in them. So we already had a plan to go take control of the President and bring back the United States. We just cut him in on that. Ever want to be a puppet-master to the leader of a nation, kid? Trust me, it’ll be a lot better than being the damn figurehead. That just puts you in the crosshairs.”

“You’re kidding?” Connor’s voice sounded scratchy but he actually looked interested.

“No,” Miles said. “He’s right. That was kind of the plan. It wouldn't be hard at all to fold you into it.”

“And what if I want to be President myself,” Connor snapped.

Bass snorted. “Bad idea, trust me.”

“I’m not trusting you, old man. I’m not trusting any of you.” But despite the anger in his voice, Charlie could tell he was interested.

“You’re what, twenty five,” Miles said. “You’re a little young. We’re going back to the Constitution, remember. But we’d already decided we were going with elections eventually. Give you a decade to get into politics and it should be easy enough to put you in position to run.”

Bass and Connor both looked more cheerful and he wiggled his way up to a mostly-sitting position. “Can I get these ropes off now.”

Charlie cut Bass off before he could speak. “See, you don’t trust any of us, but we don’t exactly trust you yet either. So be good, and we’ll see about later. No,” she snapped as Bass looked about to protest. “He’s fine right now.”

“You know, you’re a real bitch,” Connor griped and she shrugged. 

“So people say. But just wait till you've hung around these two for a few months and see what it does to you.” Miles and Bass rolled their eyes and she glared at both of them. “I don’t want to hear it from either of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did this chapter suck to write. Not the Charlie/Bass fighting (that part came easy and was even kind of fun) but the whole fitting what I'd already come up with into the framework of what happened on Revolution itself and also a lot of changes. I decided NOT to write out the full meeting with Bass and Connor. . .mostly because I actually kind of liked what that looked like on-screen and also because there was a lot of dialog in there and it would have taken a lot longer to get it finished.
> 
> I struggled for a really long time on how to get Connor on their side without the whipping (which I did kind of love, but I also decided not to go there in interests of I already had the scene with Bass/Nunez written and I decided I didn't want to change it). That is part of why it took so long to get this written. Being gone for work was the other reason, so I didn't have much time to write (funny story about that, but I'm saving it to the end). 
> 
> It finally occurred to me that what he's after is power. And what they're headed to do is go take control of the United States, albeit indirectly. Ambitious punk, meet scheming father and pseudo-uncle. And then hold on for the ride. Don't worry, he's going to calm down a little when he gets folded into the family-group (even though he's going to resist it a lot. . .but that's another chapter). After all, Emma's kid has to have some sense. But then again, Emma also had a reckless streak in her youth and I think this will help with the people who are so worried about the Charlie/Bass age difference. If she'd have met him when he was that age, she'd have wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
> 
> Many thanks to ImLuvinMyThesaurus and the completely spot-on comments about how I'd first written the meeting between Bass/Nunez (you probably all noticed my Nunez is somewhat different from the Nunez on the show both in looks and character. I had him written out already and decided I liked mine better). The dialog remains almost identical but the location is totally different to give Bass more of an advantage (my version had open ground and more of his men around and she totally called me out on how Bass would be willing to walk into that himself but not take Charlie into it. . .and she was absolutely right...so nice to have someone to check my work for me). 
> 
> So for the funny store about an additional delay in getting this done. There was one day where I did have to have my laptop at a meeting and I decided to try writing some. So we're crammed into chairs in a hotel meeting room (never enough room) and I realize I don't want the two guys on either side of me to realize I'm writing Revolution fanfic during work hours (I really had nothing else to do. . .but you get the idea). So I convert the text to the Symbols font, because it's something that is unreadable at a casual glance, but it has a few English characters, a few Greek characters a few Arabic characters and so you can kind-of track while you're writing. I had about a page already written and had written another page when it suddenly dawns on me I need to make sure the font will convert back into Times New Roman. It does not. In conversion, every character is just a box. And I had already hit save. Which meant my previous page and my new page are now total gibberish. So I go back to the symbol font, type myself an alphabet key and spend the next three hours translating what I'd already written back. Yeah, that sucked.
> 
> On the plus side, this may have taken a long time but it was also about double the average length of my last few chapters. It's going to be interesting to fold Connor in with the other things I had going (I hadn't originally planned that) but he was the Elephant in the room so I decided this was going to be easier than pretending he didn't exist.


	20. Chapter 20

They made camp about 20 miles from the border, near a small stream that burbled beside a bank that was dotted with tiny wildflowers, even though it was mid-December. Whether it was a natural phenomenon in Texas and Mexico or something to do with whatever odd things Aaron was convinced was going on with the nanites, it still felt like fall. Charlie would rather they had left Connor tied up but it was Miles who overruled her suggestions.

“He’s not our prisoner, Charlie,” Miles said as he was undoing the knots. “He gets to make his own choices if he comes with us or stays here. Why do you think Bass went to so much trouble to tell Nunez that Connor wasn’t leaving of his own free will. In case he wants to go back.” He glance covered both Charlie and Bass both but it was Bass who nodded reluctant agreement.

“He’s right. If you want to go, you’re free to go.”

“Couldn’t you have decided that about eight hours ago,” Connor griped, massaging a wrist that Miles had just released. “And before she hit me in the head with a crossbow butt-stock.”

Miles shrugged. “It sounded like a good idea at the time. Truth was, he really didn’t leave us much of a choice.” His head jerked in Bass’s direction. “Not about the crossbow part. That was Charlie improvising. But on the bringing you with us. He gets a little weird about family.”

“Great, that’s all I need. Some emotional basket case of a father.” Bass looked away, the muscles in his jaw twitching, as he went to gather firewood and Miles moved to the front of the wagon to start unharnessing the horses.

“Hey,” Charlie snapped. “Show a little respect. You lost your Aunt and Uncle, didn’t you? And your Mom.”

“Who’s been dead for over a year and I didn’t even know about it until yesterday.” She probably, she decided, needed to go a little easier on him. She hadn’t been at her best right after Ben had died either. 

“But you understand what it’s like to lose people.” She lowered her voice and he frowned at her but then nodded. “Your dad. . .he lost his parents and sisters in a car wreck. All at once. Drunk driver.” Connor looked startled but then his face shut down again.

“Very sad. Still doesn’t explain why I’m trussed up like Christmas goose.”

“He had a wife, a few years after the blackout. She died, having their baby. They both died. When he found out about you. . .he’s kind of focused on it. His last remaining blood family. You’ve been an obsession of his since the day he learned you existed.” He actually looked like he was considering her words.

“And you care about him and what happens to him?” When she nodded he started to laugh. “You’re so full of shit. You’re just another opportunistic whore looking to score on the Monroe legend. How the fuck did you ever end up with him?”

“Hey,” Miles snapped, coming around the wagon box, “watch your language around her.”

“What? You think she cares about the word fuck? What do you think she’s doing with the old man anyway?”

Miles looked like he was debating whether to yell or kill someone and Charlie grinned, waving her hand to make him stay back. “Miles prefers not to think much about the details of Bass and my relationship.”

“Has a thing for the old man himself, does he? Yeah, we heard the Matheson/Monroe legends, even down here. Or is it you? He want to fuck you? Oh,” his tone was exaggerated polite. “Sorry. I’m not supposed to use that word.”

“I think he more objected to you calling me a whore. I’m his niece.” Connor’s eyes widened.

“What? Really? Wait, then that would have been your brother that Monroe killed. Rumor has it that was the reason Matheson joined Georgia.” When she nodded he whistled, head shaking. “That’s even more messed up than I thought. You’re sleeping with him? After he killed your brother?”

“He didn’t kill my brother. A helicopter gunner did that.” And wasn’t that the oddest thing to say out loud. “And over time. . .my dead, his dead. The lines began to blur a little. Though I didn’t mean to start sleeping with him. That was a cover story we made up for the Patriots. To stop exactly the sort of thing you had been planning for him – that whole sale to the highest bidder idea. They’d have been the highest bidder. Eventually it became easier to make it real than trying to fake it.”

Connor looked up, eyes suddenly speculative. “So you two? You’re just a convenience then? It’ll be over when we kill all the Patriots?” Charlie almost winced at the cockiness in his tone, as if killing Patriots was going to be a quick easy job.

“No. Not exactly.” He tilted his head and his gaze raked her. It bordered on a I’m-checking-you-out stare but she leaned forward, aware that he could look down her shirt from that angle. “Just get used to calling me step-mom.”

His eyes immediately jerked away from her cleavage, mouth a little slack. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. And get used to the thought of siblings, because eventually you’re going to get a couple of those too.”

She had expected a glib remark or something sarcastic but the look he gave her was one of pure longing. It only lasted a moment before he was sneering again. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll be long gone by then.”

“That’s too bad,” Charlie said softly and was surprised how much she meant it. “There was no one in the world I was closer to than my brother. Even after he died, no one could take that away from me. I think it would be neat for my child – when we finally do decide to start having kids – to have a sibling already around. Not have to wait till we decide to have a second.”

Connor’s face twisted but he shoved himself to his feet, making sure his back was to her. It surprised her for a moment, but she felt her lips twist upwards in an empathetic smile. “You cry easily, don’t you?”

That clearly wasn’t what he was expecting and his shoulders stiffened as he yelled, “No. What are you talking about?” But she could hear the tears in his voice and he tensed when she put a hand of his shoulder but didn’t pull away from her.

“Yes you do. Things that make you emotional. Happy and sad. You cry over them. It’s okay. You got that from him.” That surprised him enough he turned his head enough to look at her and she saw how bright his eyes were, a few tear tracks leaving a line down his cheeks.”

“No one respects a man who cries. How the hell did he hide it from the Republic?”

“He didn’t. Everyone knew. You get him emotional and he’s going to cry. It wouldn’t stop him from killing you. But he’d still be crying about it,” 

“Seriously?” Connor sounded shocked. “You’re telling me that Sebastian Monroe. The Nation’s most lethal monster. My father. And people know he cries? He does it in public?”

Charlie shrugged. “Believe me, don’t believe me. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. But it’s part of the reason why Miles is so protective of him.”

There was more wonder in his voice as he turned to look at her. “What the hell sort of family am I getting myself into here?”

She grinned in relief both at his use of words and the feeling that he wasn’t planning on running again, or at least not in the very near future. “Just you wait to you meet them.

 

She didn’t know if it was the relief to find out he came by his choking up habit genetically, the talk about her and Bass’ families or the fact that she had promised him siblings eventually, but Connor helped her build a fire with the wood Bass had gathered and even talked politely through dinner.

“So,” he asked eventually. “Am I supposed to call you Uncle Miles or something?”

Miles and Bass exchanged a look Charlie didn’t understand before Miles shrugged. “I guess if you want. But even Charlie usually just calls me Miles.”

“I’ll tell you what, when we get back to Willoughby,” Bass’ voice was laced with laughter. “There’s this pretty blond lady. Call her Aunt Rachel.”

Miles groaned and Charlie flicked a twig in Monroe’s direction. “Why would you do that to him?” she asked.

Bass’ smile went hard and Connor started looking worried. “I wasn’t that far away. I heard him call you a whore.”

“Bass,” Miles’ tone was laced with warning. “Knock it off, okay. Charlie dealt with it just fine. And we just forcibly abducted the guy and dragged him off with us. He’s got a few reasons to be pissed. In fact,” his tone went dry. “Other than being more reasonable, he reminds me a little of you. What did you think you were getting when we found YOUR son.”

Bass settled back against a fallen log, face bitter. “Honestly. I was hoping for someone a little more like Emma.”

Miles snorted. “You remember Emma at eighteen. Again, what did you think you were getting here?”

“So,” Connor said, clearly trying to decide if he wanted to ignore the by-play or be fascinated by it. “I get you’re pissed at me for calling your girl a whore. I didn’t know she was Miles’ niece. But how exactly is telling me to call some lady Aunt Rachel a fit punishment for that.”

“Because,” Charlie spoke up. “That’s my mom.”

Connor looked confused for a moment, then his head tilted a little sideways. “And is she as bitchy – no offense – as you can be.”

Monroe’s expression didn’t change, Miles winced and Charlie started to laugh. “Compared to my mother. . .I’m up for nicest person of the year award.”

He started to laugh, noticed the way all three of them were looking at him and stopped. “No, seriously, how bad can she be?”

Miles sighed. “On a good day? She’s fine. On a bad day?”

“What, she some kind of expert fighter or something?”

“Not really,” Charlie said. “She can kind of hold her own. But that’s not really her thing. You ever been around someone who’s really dumb. And you can’t believe how they can be so stupid about everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my mom is smart. Really smart. Really, really smart. That’s kind of how she looks at all of us. All the time. It can get kind irritating and you start to wonder if it’s all bullshit. But if you try to call her on it. . . .”

“I had this scientist,” Bass said suddenly. “Back when the Republic was trying to restore power. I’d had Rachel as a political prisoner for nearly nine years by then and I get more out of Dr. Jaffee in a day than I got out Rachel in all that time. And I find out she’s building a bomb rather than an amplifier – I’ll explain all about those some other day – so I tell her that I’m done and that I don’t need her any more. I order her and her son executed and she’s sobbing and screaming; hysterical. You know the type. That woman who’s all helpless once her edge is gone.” Connor nodded and Bass’ lips twisted. “And then all the sudden, she grabs this screwdriver, still sobbing, and shoves it into Dr. Jaffee’s chest. She’s screaming when my men drag her off him and then all the sudden she’s totally stone cold and she’s glaring at me. Want to know what she said?” Connor nodded. “’Now you need me.’ Creeped me the hell out. I think I didn’t really realize until that second just how dangerous and unpredictable she really was. So yeah, don’t mess with Rachel.”

“We going to tell him about the blackout?” Charlie asked and Bass shook his head. 

“Maybe another day.”

Connor looked interested. “What about the blackout?”

“Might as well get it over with,” Miles sighed. “She caused it. Her and Charlie’s dad. My brother. Ben.”

“Not really caused,” Charlie said. “That part wasn’t them. But they invented the machine that let someone else cause it. And all those years. . .they did nothing to turn it off. Again, long story.”

Connor looked stunned. “Wait, if someone caused it, can the power be turned back on?”

None of them were looking at him so Charlie finally met his eyes and shook her head. “Not any more. We tried. We destroyed Atlanta and Philadelphia in the process.”

“That was you? How the hell did that happen?”

“It was my fault.” Bass’ voice was soft and Miles turned to stare at him.

“How was it your fault?”

“Randall. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. But I managed to convince myself he was my only chance at getting power for the Republic. I had so many chances just to put a bullet in his head. Ironic, isn’t it. I leave him alive and he shoots himself.”

Connor looked lost and Miles signed. “Randall Flynn. He was probably behind the Blackout in the first place. He turned back up last year, offering power to Bass. And he delivered too. Charlie and Rachel and I, along with this guy named Aaron you’ll meet soon, go to this place in Colorado called the Tower, to try to turn the power back on for everyone.”

“Try not to ask about the Tower in front of my Mom,” Charlie added. “And you left out the –“

Miles waved a hand. “Later. We don’t have twenty hours to tell the whole story. So yeah, you’re getting the simplified version. We get it back on, and Randall locks himself in the control room and launches ICBMs at Philadelphia and Atlanta then shoots himself in the head. But not before spouting all this stuff about he wanted Monroe to wipe out Georgia then he was going to wipe out Monroe. And the last thing he said before he died. He said he was a Patriot.”

Connor jerked. “A what?”

“A Patriot.”

“As in the Patriots? The ones that are taking over?”

Bass nodded. “One and the same. They call themselves the U.S. Government but I’m pretty damn sure that’s not who they really are. Oh, they have a few figureheads. Like the President. But the rest of it. What they’re doing. Re-education camps, plagues they have the cure for, war clans they release on innocent people only to come in and clean up the mess in order to be hailed as heroes. And when I say clean up the mess it’s flagrant butchery of people they hired in the first place.”

“And that’s what you want us to go up against and fight?” Charlie wasn’t sure if Connor’s voice was awed or pissed. Bass shrugged. “Are you crazy?” He looked around at the three of them and he shook his head. “You really are crazy. All of you.”

Charlie grimaced an apologetic smile at him and suddenly Bass signed. “You know what? You’re right. We are all crazy. But we’ll be gone in the morning. You can go back home. You’ll be better off there. Sorry, I should have seen that before. I. . .guess I was just so focused on meeting you I’d forgotten what we were up against. I. . .just wanted you to know that I didn’t abandon you on purpose.”

“So what, hey, I’m your Dad, now go play in the other room while the adults talk?” It was exactly how Charlie felt when Miles and Rachel talked. “Is she fighting with you?”

“Yeah.”

“So why her and not me?”

Bass shook his head. “Because she’s Miles’ niece. She’s in the middle of it already.”

“And I’m your son. Aren’t I in the middle of it too?” He sounded both hurt and angry.

Bass shook his head, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to be. You can walk away. Go home. No one will ever know.”

“Except I’d know.” There was something hard in Connor’s voice that reminded Charlie more of Miles than it did of Monroe. “You gave up that right to wrap me up and keep me safe when you came here to find me. I don’t need people to keep me safe.” He practically yelled the last line, tears streaming down his cheeks. He started to rise but Charlie reached out to put a hand on his arm.

“You don’t mean about this, do you? You’re thinking about Emma sending you away. To keep you safe.”

His face twisted but he nodded and Charlie could see Bass scrubbing his own tears away from his eyes.

“That’s on me.” Miles’ voice was quiet. “If I’d have just told you, Bass. When Emma wrote me that letter. But yeah. You were right. I think I was pissed about what had happened. And so, rather than making her tell you like I should have, I offered to take him to Mexico. I’m sorry. To both of you. It shouldn’t have been that way.”

Connor was looking at Miles like he had three heads but Bass just rose to his knees and moved the few feet to where Miles was sitting. He buried his face in Miles’ shoulder and the sobs that wracked them made Charlie start to choke up herself. Miles’ arm went around Bass’ shoulder and patted him awkwardly but she hadn’t seen that kind of look on her Uncle’s face since Nora had died, even if tears weren’t actually falling.

They continued to clutch at each other and Connor finally turned to Charlie, confusion replacing his earlier rage. “What am I missing here?”

“Emma was Miles’ fiancé before they joined the Marines. She and Bass slept together while she and Miles were still dating but her parents didn’t allow her to tell either of them. Bass didn’t know about you until right before your mom died.”

“I kind of got that part. But I didn’t know Miles was her ex. Wait, his best friend slept with his fiancé and he forgave my father?” Charlie nodded and Connor looked confused but she decided now was not the time to bring up the incredibly complicated history between Miles, Ben and Rachel. “So, about the power? Can it still be turned back on?”

Charlie shook her head. “My mother will have to explain all about that, because I don’t understand it. But no. I don’t think so.”

Miles and Bass had finally let go of each other and had moved away, brushing tears, wiping noses and Miles pointed at a damp spot near the neck of his shirt, his face wry. Bass just grinned at him.

“Okay,” Miles said, his voice trying to be firm, but there was a quaver behind it. “We’re going to have a long day ahead of us so we’re going to have to get some sleep. Charlie, you’ve got first watch. Bass, you’re on second. I’ll take third. “ 

He started to rise but Connor’s voice rang out. “You forgot about me.” Miles’ expression said he had not forgotten about Connor. “If you wanted me to go back you shouldn’t have shown up in the first place.”

Miles shrugged. “Fine. You can have third. I’ll do fourth.”

Connor’s face went speculative for a moment, then he bit his lip. “Maybe just three watches tonight.”

The look on Miles and Bass’ face was a mirrored disgust at his abrupt withdrawl but he glanced at Charlie and she jerked her chin up. “Go on, let hear it.”

“You take first watch. I’ll take second. He can take third.” He jerked his head and Miles and Bass frowned. 

“And what about me?”

Connor looked embarred but mulish at the same time and he was stammering but he forced the words out. “You or her. First watch. I don’t care. But after. . .well.. . If you’re both not. . . .” he trailed off and Miles started to look suspicious as Charlie started to grin at him. 

“Thank you, Connor. That’s very nice of you. We’ll accept.” It was going to be a little awkward, with Connor and Miles both knowing what they’d be doing, but it wasn’t as if they hadn’t managed it in full view of a group of Patriots.

“Wait, what?” Bass gasped. “Did –”

“She promised me a sibling.” Connor snapped and Miles groaned. 

“Oh I so don’t need to know any of this.”

“Not now,” Bass yelped. “Not while we still have this whole Patriot mess to deal with.”

“Sebastian.” Charlie’s voice was clipped but she was laughing at the same time. “Say thank you to your son for the nice present and shut the hell up before I start making the whole crossbow thing into a bad habit.”

“Yeah, but,” he stopped talking at her glare and started waving his hands around the area. They were a ways off but there were some low bushes to the south of them that would be semi-decent cover in darkness but not so much that anyone could sneak up on them from the other side without a lookout being able to spot them. She'd not bothered to pack any of her thistle tea, she realized but then decided it didn't matter because she was pretty sure it was completely the wrong time in her cycle to get pregnant.

“But nothing. I’m glad your relatives are more open minded than mine.”

“Seriously,” Miles snapped. “When have I ever been anything than supportive. Even when the whole thing squicks me out.”

“Call it gratitude because I am almost totally supportive of you and my mother,” she snapped and Connor jerked, his eyebrows going nearly into his hairline. 

He whistled softly, looked around and then shrugged. After a moment he sighed. “Sorry, Charlie. At least I tried. I guess he’s just getting old.”

Monroe was suddenly on his feet, face enraged before he realized he was being baited and he glanced between them. “Old, am I,” he purred, pulling Charlie against him. “Well, maybe I am. Maybe you’d prefer the younger version?” She could see from his eyes just how much the words cost him but he was also glancing between the two of them, as if he felt he owed her.

Connor looked horrified and Charlie threw back her head and laughed as he snapped, “I don’t need your leavings, old man.” His anger was spoiled when he actually blushed and shot a guilty look at Charlie. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. The age difference has always freaked him out a little. And no offense, but if he was anything like you when he was younger, I wouldn’t have wanted a damn thing to do with him back then.” She and Bass had their gazes locked together and she could tell he was starting to see the humor in the entire situation. 

She stepped in for a long slow kiss and Miles made gagging sounds behind her. “He said on his watch shift. Where I am mercifully asleep. It’s your shift and I’m still awake.”

“Oh, grow up, Miles,” Bass sighed. “Fine, deal. Now all of you, go to sleep. Charlie and I will take first watch.”

Charlie let him take a seat on the stump while Connor and Miles arranged their blankets and then took a seat next to Bass, cuddling into his side. The thought of just a few more hours was both torture and its own kind of foreplay and she mouthed “Thanks,” to Connor as he lay down and he smiled at her before flipping his back to them. Earlier in the day she’d wanted nothing more than to have him out of their lives but suddenly she grinned. She was going to enjoy this whole stepmother thing, she realized.

 

Bass slept for about an hour with her curled into his side, her eyes sweeping the landscape. The whole place was peaceful, the cracking fire and the flow of water over rocks and the occasional snore from Connor or Miles.

When he woke, Bass looked guilty, smiling at her. “How long was I out?” 

She smiled at him. “Not long. We’ve got about another two hours to go.” He glanced around, checking to make sure Connor and Miles were either asleep or safely turned away and pulled Charlie to him, kissing her slowly, his tongue delving into her mouth. 

It was almost as frustrating as what he’d done to her Nunez’s house and she heard herself whimper against his skin as he moved to breath, “Charlotte,” into her hair.”

She lifted her fingers to brush at the bruise over his left eye and he caught her hand with his, bringing it to his lips as he kissed the tip of each finger. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered and he shook his head.

“I had it coming.”

“Yes, you did. And I’d do it again if I had to. But not. . .there were girls where I grew up. They thought it was okay to bite or scratch or hit the guys they were with, when they were mad or didn’t get their way. I always swore I’d never be like them.”

He grinned. “And yet I have nail marks on my back.” She felt herself blush.

“That’s different. During sex. You sometimes leave bruises on my hips and shoulders from holding me. They just did it whenever they felt like it. People get so upset when a man hits a woman. How is it any different when she hits him?”

One hand went to the scab on his forehead. “So you’re worried you’re abusing me?”

He was making fun of her a little, and she sighed. “Yes.” It clearly wasn’t the answer he was expecting and he started to laugh, making Miles jerk awake, glare at them and pull his blanket over his head. They both grinned at each other and she lowered her voice. “Not like that. In this case, I had a damn good reason. I’d do it again. But where’s the line between not letting your turn into General Monroe and getting mad because you bought me the wrong color hair ribbons for my birthday?” He took her hand again and kissed the palm.

“I’m not too worried about becoming a domestic violence victim. But I’ve been so afraid what would happen, if I did become General Monroe again. I know you said you’d not let me go through it alone. But I wondered, what. . .how much you could take before you’d walk away. I still wonder a little. But at least I know that you’re not going to be scared by any little outburst.”

She shuddered at the memory and he pulled her closer against his side. “Actually, I was terrified. I felt so sick to my stomach I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t going to throw up all over you.” He looked stricken and she tucked her head under his chin. “But I think I was more afraid for you than I was of you. Even. . .even then, I was pretty sure you weren’t going to hurt me.”

His arms closed tighter around her and she relaxed against him. Miles sat up, throwing the blanket back. “You two. Go.”

“We still have two hours left,” Charlie protested.

He grimaced. “No, you two are going to keep talking for two hours and no matter how hard I try not to, I’m going to keep having to hear it.”

“Sorry,” Bass muttered with a quick look at Connor. “We’ll quit.”

“Bass,” Miles’ voice was low but firm. “I’m not kidding. Go. I’ve known you a really long time and I know this mood and you’re going to be all moody and chatty until you get laid and I’m guessing -- based on both your moods – it’s been a few days.”

“What day is it today?” Bass asked and Miles shrugged.

“Friday night or Saturday morning. We left Willoughby on Tueday.”

“Since Monday morning,” Bass said and Miles winced.

“Detail.”

“Oh, trust me, there are no other details I’d want to share, even if you wanted me to. I was pissed at you and I was taking it all out on her. So the less said about the whole situation the better.”

Miles was looking uncomfortable but he glanced at her as if to check she was okay and she smiled at him. “I’m good,” she said and he looked at her as if he weren’t sure he believed her. “No, really, Miles. I’m fine. I actually got where it was all coming from. I didn’t like it. But I understood it.” He relaxed a little.

“Well do me a favor, even if you are intent on proving you’re a good enough man to wait for a few more hours. At least go make sure she gets some sleep.”

Both of them drew back, staring at him suspiciously and Bass glanced at her darkly. “How did you know about that?”

Miles got Bass’ glare and his face contorted into horror and disgust. “Don’t you dare even ask, you paranoid bastard. You two just tend to talk about stuff when you think no one is listening. It’s kind of hard not to hear.” His face softened. “And that’s something else she gets from Rachel.” His voice went serious. “But honestly, both of you. I’m wide awake.”

Charlie caught her breath, the look on his face a mixture of discomfort and genuine feeling and she suddenly this was Miles’ way of saying “I’m sorry” to both of them. Whether it was for hiding Connor or getting them embroiled with The Patriots or for whatever reason, he was trying to make something up to them and she smiled at him, grabbing her blankets in one hand and Bass’ blanket in the other before he could change his mind or Bass could talk him out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being mostly dialog. But I wanted Connor to at least start getting an idea of what he's getting into and start being interested in these people who have just showed up on his doorstep and turned his entire life completely upside down.


	21. Chapter 21

They napped between sex but after the third time she flopped on her back next to him, still trying to catch her breath. “Okay, any more and I won’t be able to walk or ride tomorrow.”

“Quitter.” His voice was teasing and he leaned over to kiss her on the top of the head, his knuckles trailing down her neck.

“Yep. Besides, I figured, since Miles took the rest of our watch, we should at least take part of his. If nothing else, encourage this stunning open minded streak he’s demonstrated.” Bass chuckled as he rummaged for his clothes, then turned to stare at her. 

“Wait, why haven’t you fallen asleep yet.” She was afraid he’d notice that and he looked insulted. “You didn’t come that last time, did you?”

She leaned over and kissed him, “I’m tired, I’m a little sore, you were amazing, it felt wonderful. But no, I didn’t. Just like you didn’t the time before. It’s not a big deal. It’s been a long couple of days and this was. . . .what?” He had the oddest look on his face.

“Just something I read once. I. . .I don’t think I ever really believed it.”

“What was it?”

“Just some stupid magazine of my sister’s. It had an article about the type of sex you had measuring the depth of your relationship and there was something about when it could just be about being glad to see each other. I remember thinking that was crazy, that it was about getting off and anything less was pointless. I hadn’t even ever thought about it before now.”

“How old were you at the time?”

“Twenty, twenty-two. Something like that.”

She leaned over and kissed him again, then rested her cheek into his shoulder. “And you wonder why I don’t care about the age difference. I think I would have hated you then.”

He shrugged, kissing the top of her head again. “Yeah, you probably would have. Fine. I’ll stop obsessing about my age and I’ll have comfort-sex and I’ll cook and I’ll do dishes. But damn-it, Charlotte, I draw the line at putting the toilet seat down.”

“Okay.” She’d been in the outhouse after him enough times to know he was actually a close-the-lid person so it was probably an empty threat but she decided not to mention it. “Come on, let’s go let your kid get some sleep.”

They took turns sleeping for about an hour each while the other watched and woke Miles about an hour before dawn so they could curl up together.

 

When Charlie woke she was surprised to see the sun high enough that it was nearly nine in the morning. Bass and Miles were sitting together and they both looked at her. “Thought you were going to sleep all day,” Miles commented and she shrugged.

“I might have. Thought we were getting an early start?”

“No reason. I figure if we get to the border about six, we’ll have a better job blending in with day-workers going home for the night. We can get a ways into Texas, spend the night and get back to Willoughby the day after. It’ll give us a little more time to bring Connor up to speed and get him used to calling Bass James.”

“Yeah,” Connor commented, walking back over from the stream where he’d been shaving. “No one remembered to mention yesterday that I get to pretend to be Miles’ son.”

“Shit,” Charlie said, glancing between Bass and Connor. “I’d forgotten about that.” With the beard gone, Connor looked a little less like Bass as he was now and little more like how she remembered General Monroe. But she could see the lines of Emma more clearly in his face. “You do know this puts eight people in the house? “

Miles shrugged. “I was thinking maybe he should move into my old room at the photography studio. Except the more time he spends with us, the better. And I’m not so worried about their appearance.” He waved a hand between Connor and Bass. “He’s got my coloring so people will see resemblance between us, even if it’s not really there. So congrats, Charlie. Meet your new cousin.”

Connor looked a little surprised, then shrugged. “Fair enough. Cousin Charlotte?”

Bass tensed, leaning forward a little. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? You do.” At Bass’ glare he shrugged and grimaced at Charlie. “Apparently there’s a lot of things I’m not allowed to call you. Think he’d flip if I offered to call you Mom?”

Bass tensed but didn’t respond and Miles slapped him on the shoulder. “You know what, for months it’s been all ‘I need to find my son’ so lighten up, okay.”

Connor grinned, still looking at Charlie. “So what do you think?”

“I think if you’re pretending to be my cousin, everyone would think it as a little weird if you call me Mom. I think if you’re trying to bait you’re dad, you’re doing a great job at it. But I will warn you, you might want to be careful with that. Because he can be a real bastard when he’s pissed or hurt and he’s cutting you a lot of slack because he feels bad he’s not been there for you.” Both Connor and Bass were starting at her and she shrugged. “I’m not saying you don’t have the right to push a bit. But he meant it when he said if he’d have known about you, he’d have been there for you.”

“Cuz he’s the soul of integrity?” Connor’s voice was bitter. “He slept with his best friend’s fiancé. How,” he turned to glare at Miles, “do you just let that go?”

“Because,” Miles was speaking slowly, “by the time I found out about it, I’d already had an affair with my brother’s wife. So I’m not saying it’s right. And yeah, I made bad choices because I was pissed. But I understand how it happened. So, like Charlie said, cut him some slack.”

Connor’s face showed a mixture of anger and embarrassment both and Charlie walked over to him. “And at the same time, we need to remember to cut you some slack as well. This family took a really long time to get to this point. We’ve all tried to kill each other at least four times in the last few years and none of this came easy to any of us. Well, except maybe Jeremy.”

Miles shook his head. “Don’t believe that either. Jeremy talks a good game, but remember how easily everyone believed his pets comments. He made it sound like he had a couple of sex slaves and no one questioned it. And then he admits it his “pets” were a cat and a parakeet. He does surface interaction really well. But trying getting deeper than that. . .he won’t let you.”

“Who’s Jeremy?” Connor asked and Bass winced.

“Yet another person I tried to screw over when I was President. I ordered him executed and thought he was dead and buried. He showed up a few weeks ago because he heard rumors that Miles and I were together again and he said I was always more sane when Miles was around.”

“So what is the story with you two anyway,” Connor asked, sitting down and taking the slice of bread Bass handed him. “By the time news got to us it had been passed along so many times it was totally distorted.”

“What have you heard?” Bass asked, sounding curious. At Connor’s hesitant look he waved his hand. “Don’t worry. We’ve already heard it all. We were cousins, half-brothers, lovers, and my personal favorite by a fortune teller in Thailand that we are really the same soul that split in half five centuries ago and has been searching for itself ever since and was reunited in us.”

“That would have been my favorite,” Miles commented. “If she hadn’t tried to steal my wallet.”

Bass shrugged. “Yeah, that did kind of put her credibility in question. So go ahead, what are the rumors about us in Mexico?”

“Yeah just about that. Not the same soul thing. When were you in Thailand?”

“Oh, I guess that probably never made it into the rumors. We were still in the Marine’s and we’d gone over for a joint training exercise.”

“So you heard all the rumors as far as Mexico?” Charlie commented. “And I grew up in Wisconsin. Smack dab in the middle of the Monroe Republic and I never heard any of this.”

Miles shrugged. “Odds are Ben kept most of it from you. Not sure how he did it. But you do have to remember, I spent more time outside the Republic than I did in it. If your territory was compliant, people didn’t see me. I was mostly known in areas that had an active resistance. Talk about irony.”

“What do you mean?” Connor asked.

“Well, when we were starting to get a bead on what the Patriots were really doing, I told Rachel that it was an occupation. And every good occupation needs a resistance. The next day, Bass and Charlie showed up in Willoughby and – as much as I was afraid what us being together again would do it me –it was a ready-made resistance right there. And it was like getting my brother back.”

“For me,” Bass said. “It was the night in the tent in front of the Tower. When you told me we’d always be brothers. After I found out about the bombs, I could have gone back to Pennsylvania and tried to reform the Republic but I always knew – without you – it meant nothing to me. I think I was trying to hang on to it to give it back to you because even when I was trying to have you killed, I still believed somehow you’d be back.”

They were doing it again, Charlie realized, starting in the middle of their story. She felt a flash of sympathy for Connor. If it had been hard for her to wade through their past baggage a year and half before, how much worse was it for Connor with the Tower and the Republic/Georgia war added.

“The short version,” Charlie said, cutting off Miles as he started to speak. “They grew up together. They were best friends from the time they were not even ten years old. They joined the Marines together and then when the Blackout happened they went together to try to find my parents but they ended up finding out how bad everything was decided to try to help people. The militia started with that. But they went too far and Miles decided to walk away. He was going to kill Monroe first but he couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“Never could,” Miles muttered and Monroe hit him lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” But the looks they exchanged were the almost-smug grin that said each one was aware what the other was probably thinking and she glared at them.

“Really, you two. Do we have to do this now?” They both shrugged and she looked back of Connor. “That’s the really short version of their life stories. One of these days, we’ll fill you in on the rest of it. Any specific questions?”

“Yeah. Miles said you and Monroe showed up in Willoughby. Like you came there together. How did that happen?”

“You mean why was I with the man who had my father and brother killed?” He nodded and she signed. “After the Tower, my mother was totally out of her mind, because she knew – and I don’t even know how – that something bigger was going on that what we realized. And I was mad at her – let’s not get into why yet either – so I left to go see the world a little bit. Well, one night I ended up in this bar in the Plains Nation and hooked up with this bartender.” Bass stiffened and Charlie realized she’d never filled him in on the whole story of how she’d come to find him. “The next morning he was asking about if I had family and what I was planning on doing and said I couldn’t go back to my unit,” she flashed the brand and Connor’s eyebrows rose as he stared at it.

“Shit. . .how. . .when? What the –“

“Again, a story for another time. But this bartender had seen it and showed me that he had one too. He’d been conscripted but had gone back home after his enlistment was finished. He said he’d even seen Monroe recently. And of course, I left immediately in the direction he indicated.” She sighed. “I think he just was making conversation. And I have often wondered if all his asking about my family and where I was headed. . .I kind of think he was trying to find a way to ask me to stay for a while.” She’d wandered into that bar that night because the musicians had been good, the alcohol had been strong and cheap and the food was surprisingly decent compared to most of what she’d found in the Plains Nation. Jeff had been cute, friendly and extremely good in bed and if he hadn’t told her about Monroe, she might have stayed for a few days – possibly even longer. 

She felt Bass’ arms wrap around her, his chest at her back. “Well, I’m glad you were obsessed with me then.”

She snorted. “And it almost killed you." She looked back to Connor. "I followed him to New Vegas where he was ring-fighting; paid this guy who ran the book on the fights to arrange us a private meeting. Waited outside his trailer with a crossbow for him to come find me so I could put an arrow in his skull.”

“What stopped you?”

“Nothing. I took the shot.”

Just the smallest jerk of the muscles around Miles’ lips betrayed his feelings. If she had killed Monroe, she wondered if Miles would have been able to ever really forgive her, even if he would never admit he was angry with her for it. 

“Well?”

“Bounty hunters,” Bass said. “They’d been tracking me too. Caught me by surprise and knocked me out. Arrow missed me.”

“So I tracked them and was going to shoot him in the head but one of them got me in the shoulder with a blast of rock salt and knocked me into an empty pool. When I came too, I was tried up across from him. Spent a really long day there.” She shoved her jacket back. The wounds had been superficial and probably wouldn’t show in a year but the faint scars were still visible if anyone looked close. “Tried to talk them into just killing him and getting it over. I knew he was going to escape and kill them.”

“Yet they were still surprised,” Bass growled. “When I escaped and killed one of them. I found the bounty they had on me when I stole their horses and trailer. And I found one on Charlie’s Mom. So I went back and found her. Tried to get her to take me to Miles. She refused so I decided to track her. Found her in some dive in Texas, trying to fight her way out of a rape-gang who’d drugged her food.”

Connor looked at her a moment, then shifted his gaze to Bass. “Never mind, I don’t really want to know what happened to them, do I.”

“I killed them all,” Bass commented, his tone deceptively casual. “No one tries to hurt my Charlotte.”

She dug her elbow lightly into his ribs. “I wasn’t your Charlotte then.” She decided not to even think on the fact that she’d tacitly acknowledged that she belonged to him now.

“Charlie,” he sounded a little exasperated. “I’ve wanted you since that day on my couch in Philadelphia.”

Miles jerked, head swiveling between them. “Wait, what? What couch in Philadelphia?”

“Really?” Charlie asked and Bass nodded.

“What couch?” Miles ground out. “What happened in Philadelphia?”

Bass’ voice was teasing. “Miles, she and I had sex three times last night. Philadelphia was over a year ago. What does it matter?”

“It matters,” Miles snapped, somehow managing to get Bass backed against the wagon, “because if you raped my niece in Philadelphia, I don’t care if she let you have her again in Texas to save her family. I will –“

“I don’t rape.” Bass snapped but his tone was only a little harsh.

“No, but you do coerce. Really well. There’s not much different. What. Happened. On. The Couch. In. Philadelphia?”

Charlie barely realized she was moving but suddenly Miles’ arms were around her. “It wasn’t like that,” Charlie said. “He was using us as leverage against Mom. Put Danny and I both on the couch and told Mom to pick which one to kill. I told him to pick me. He didn’t touch me. He was across the room.” He’d barely seemed aware of her, focused as he had been on Rachel, but she remembered the one look he’d given her when she’d jumped between Danny and Strausser. Miles looked drained and irritated at the same time and she tightened her arms around him. “If he’d have raped me, you’d have known about it. Trust me.”

“I meant it, when I said rape and coercion aren’t that far apart. I. . . .” Miles seemed to be able to look everywhere but at her and she suddenly gasped.

“You think this is all about you, don’t you? That I’m with him because of you?” When he didn’t look at her, she signed. “Miles?”

His voice was choked and low. “You don’t know, how bad I wanted to take it back. But I couldn’t. I had to tell him in Philadelphia that he was nothing to me. For you. Because after Ben. . .then after Danny, I knew. . .I couldn’t go back.” He didn’t really mean back to the Republic, she realized. He meant back to Bass. “At least in Colorado I could justify letting him go. Because I needed him to provide the distraction so I could get back to the Tower. But I meant every word of it.” He wasn’t exactly crying, but it was nearly the same thing. “Then you came back with him. You.” Bass stepped behind Miles and his arms came around her.

She turned to see Connor staring at all three of them in something that could have been wonder or horror and Bass stretched out an arm as if inviting Connor towards them but the other man shook his head, stepping farther back.

“You all need serious therapy.”

Miles looked up, sniffing though his eyes were still dry. “Probably. Got a therapist around? No? Well then, this is what we’ve got.” He twisted like he was uncomfortable having them both so close but Bass tightened his grip.

“Face it, Miles,” Charlie said, “the two people who love you most. . .found each other.” She’d almost said it, she realized. She still hadn’t been able to, but it had been close.

“Where I get to hear way more than I ever wanted about their sex life,” Miles grumbled and Bass stepped away from him, laughing. “And then his kid, who should be totally grossed out, decides he wants a sibling and I get to hear about it even more. You two were fighting when we left Texas. I shouldn’t have had to deal with this.”

“No,” Bass commented. “You and I were fighting. She was catching the backlash.” He glanced over at Connor. “Yeah, I hear you about the therapist. But like Miles said, they don’t exactly advertise like they used to. Besides, it kind of works. And just wait til you meet Rachel.”

“I’m really starting to be curious about Rachel,” Connor commented.

 

They left the wagon at the border but kept the horses. No one seemed to pay any attention to them, which Charlie found surprising. Part of her wondered if Nunez would try to collect on Bass after all. Their campsite in Texas that night had absolutely no cover or privacy anywhere around so they all took equal watch shifts.

They were still a good ten hour ride from Willoughby when they spotted the first Patriot patrols and Miles grimaced. “I know Texas signed them over Willoughby for the whole gratitude over saving the town from the Andovar clan. But we’re a long ways out. I’m surprised the Rangers are putting up with this.”

“You remember Ann Arbor,” Bass said. At looks from Charlie and Connor he added, “it was this little town up in what used to be Michigan. Michigan was convinced they could remain independent and they signed a treaty with this guy named Baxter. He was a mercenary who offered to fight anyone else who tried to take over Michigan. Problem was, Baxter and his people were worse scum than the Militia ever thought f being on its worst day.”

“So what happened?” Connor asked.

“We,” Miles sighed, “managed to get an agent into Baxter’s group who advised him to take over Michigan. They struck at Ann Arbor first. By the end of the year, Michigan had pretty much surrendered to the Republic, just so we could get rid of Baxter for them. That’s kind of what I wanted to do with Texas. Get them fighting the Patriots for us. But President Carver is a wuss who didn’t want to be fighting the Plains Nation and the Patriots both. Though Texas could have kicked both their asses because the Plains Nations never organizes enough to do much of anything for long and the Patriots, Well, you kno–” He broke off and looked at some brush before yelling, “Get down” a few seconds before gunfire sounded though the morning air.

Charlie’s landed hard on her back, not because she followed his instructions but because her horse spun violently and took off, her foot coming free of one stirrup and she thought for a desperate moment she was about to get dragged but her other foot slid out. She heard a horrible scream from another horse and suddenly three men came charging out of the brush at her. She was still stunned from her fall but one hand went to the pistol at her waist. She got off one wild shot that hit one of them in the head – she’d been aiming for his chest but was grateful to have hit anything with as bad as her hands were shaking . She heard another gun go off not far from her but then the other two were on her and she rolled to miss one, only to have another drag her to her feet. They were gone seconds later as Miles gutted one and Bass snapped another one’s neck . None of them had firearms and she wondered where the shots had come from but a look around showed Connor on the ground, one leg pinned by his dead horse but he had his pistol out and a dead man with a rifle lay not far away from him.

“Charlie,” Miles said. “You hurt?”

Bass had already gone charging into the brush and Miles waited for her head shake before he went plunging in after Bass. Charlie pushed herself up, her entire body shaking from the after effects of the combat rush but her hands weren’t shaking any longer. “Here,” Connor called. “If you cut the cinch on the saddle I think I can get my leg out.” She walked over to where he partially sat. He’d gotten his knee up when the horse had gone down and it was his lower leg and foot still under the bulk of meat. She pulled the knife from her boot and slit the latigo on the saddle, releasing the girth strap. “Grab the horn and pull,” he instructed. He pulled on the cantle and they pulled the saddle free of the dead horse. His foot had gone through the stirrup sometime in the fall so pulling the saddle off helped drag it out.

“You alright,” she asked and he nodded.

“Yeah. Didn’t get hit. My leg will be bruised pretty bad but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

Bass and Miles jogged back, several packs and saddlebags between them. Bass came over and gave Connor his hand and helped him stand. “We found four packs,” he said. “Doesn’t sound like there were any more. They had a camp in there. Looks they’d been set up in an ambush for a while.”

“Just the one rifle,” Miles said, as he pulled it and checked the chamber. It was an older rifle, cheap metal dull and chipped. “Looks they were down to about three rounds. Which would have been enough for all of us.”

“Nice work,” Bass said, his voice and face serious. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I didn’t either. But I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. They didn’t have much with them. Probably wanted our horses and our food.”

Bass was checking bodies and he huffed. “Hey Miles, take a look.” He pulled a sleeve and Charlie saw rough cuts scaring the man’s arm that had been rubbed with ink to approximate a tattoo. “War clan?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah. Remains of one. They might have been Titus’. Or maybe they were another one the Patriots brought in. It worked so well, I’m not surprised to see them trying it again.”

“These guys were Patriots?” Connor asked.

“Probably not,” Miles said. “But I’m willing to bet the Patriots employed them at some point. What they didn’t mention at the time was that employment was going to end when they shot you and paraded your corpse to a bunch of townspeople to show what a great job the Patriots did. That’s what they did to Titus and his animals. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. . .because he definitely did. He was one sick bastard. But Willoughby didn’t deserve what he did to them.”

Connor signed, staring at the dead horse. “Sorry about your horse,” Charlie told him and he looked confused for a moment before shrugging. “So am I. Not because I was attached to it – just one of the horses from pens. But I really liked that saddle and we’re going to have to leave it because someone’s going to have to ride double.”

Miles looked speculative then shook his head. “We’re about an hour’s ride from a town. We’ll buy you a new horse and saddle there.”

Charlie glanced over the dead horse, a single gunshot to its head and she took a deep breath. “So you saw no signs of any of the rest of them?”

“Nope,” Miles said and she nodded.

“Good. Connor, you said you weren’t attached right?”

He shook his head and she nodded again. “Okay. Someone get me some rope and help me get this thing strung up. If it had to die, we might was well use it.”

“You’re going to butcher a horse?” Connor asked, sounding surprised.

“What, don’t eat horse meat in Mexico?” she mocked and he laughed.

“Sure we do. All the time. Just didn’t think you ate it up here.”

“Meat’s meat,” she commented and Miles grimaced.

“Charlie, you have two deer in the shed at Gene’s.”

“And we’re going to have eight adults in the house. Look, someone’s going to have to round up my horse anyway so why don’t you and Connor take your and Bass’ horses into town. That’ll give this one a chance to drain out enough to butcher most of this one.”

“How,” Miles asked, “Are we getting it hung up. It’s got to be over a thousand pounds.”

“Just get me some rope.”

She started in the horse’s chest, opening a long slash with Miles’ sword down its entire length. The entrails were still warm as she pulled them out with her hands and a knife. Heart, stomach, intestines, lungs and other organs made a messy pile on the ground as Bass and Connor took the two remaining horses to round up hers. Miles watched her work when she waved off his offer of assistance because there was no water near them and she wanted him semi-presentable when he and Connor rode to the town to buy Connor a fresh horse. Bass could have gone with him instead but she was starting to get paranoid, she realized, about Bass going into public and people recognizing him. Nunez still could have sold the information that Sebastian Monroe was in the area.

“That’s going to attract a crazy amount of flies,” Miles commented, gesturing at the gut pile.

“We should probably move on before nightfall. It’s going attract a lot more than flies.”

With the horse at least a few hundred pounds lighter, she secured ropes around its back legs and ran another rope to a nearby tree branch. When Bass and Connor came back with her horse in less than ten minutes she ran ropes to all three of the saddle horns and the men got the horses moving forward, straining against the weight until it was dangling a few feet off the ground. She tied it off to the tree before releasing the ropes on the horns and Connor looked impressed. “Where’d you get all the rope?” he asked and she shook her head. 

“This is Texas. They tie it to the saddles. You just get so used to seeing it you probably didn’t even notice it anymore.”

He looked embarrassed and Miles patted his shoulder. “Don’t try to figure her out. It’ll just make your head hurt. Come on, take Charlie’s horse. We’re going to town to buy you a new one.”

“Buy me something I can use to wrap a whole bunch of horsemeat,” Charlie called and Miles nodded at her. He seemed distracted and she decided to ask him about it later. It might have been about eating horse – some people refused to do it until they were absolutely starving – but Miles had eaten it plenty during the Republic/Georgia war and had never seemed to care before. “And salt. Lots of salt.” 

She took a skinning knife and started at the shoulder, carving the skin away from the muscles. “Making a horsehide rug?” Bass asked and she shook her head.

“No telling if Miles will be able to get something wrap all this. Besides, if they’re gone a few hours I can butcher most of it before they even get back and this is somewhere to put it all so it’s not on the ground.”

He shrugged, pulled another knife and started on the other side.

When they finished laying the hide out, hair side against the ground, he helped her butcher, carving the muscle away from the bone. The animal had been in good condition and the pile of meat grew alarmingly. “We’re going to have a hard time carrying all this,” Bass finally commented. “Even divided up, it’s still going to be a few hundred pounds extra per horse. And I’m not sure this is the area to be slowed down.”

“Maybe we just take it into that town and sell most of it then,” Charlie said. “I just didn’t want it going to waste.”

Bass glanced over towards the clump of bushes they’d dragged the bodies in and smirked. “More meat there. If meat’s meat.”

She realized he was joking before she could react and she shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“I’m not recommending it myself. You know that was what Miles was worried about, don’t you?”

“Was that his problem? I noticed he was a little off about something.”

“That or something like it. Sometimes you’re just a little too. . .practical. It worries him that you’re turning into him.”

She grimaced. “He’s said that to you?”

Bass shrugged. “He doesn’t have to. I can just tell.”

 

Connor and Miles arrived back about three hours later, the two horses that they’d left with pulling an old wagon. “So,” Miles said. “Apparently no one has any horses to sell in that town. Patriots came through and bought everything anyone was willing to give up about a week ago. But we were able to buy this. Figured it would work for the meat too. I don’t like how it pins us down, but riding double would do the same.”

“See any Patriots?” Bass asked and Miles nodded. “They’re all over the place. I’m not sure if Carver amended their treaty or if they just don’t care.”

“I think borders don’t matter much to them,” Charlie sighed. “Okay, let’s get this all loaded.

They got the horsemeat onto the wagon, along with Connor’s saddle and the hide as well – it was too large a chunk of leather to leave around now that they had something to carry it with. Connor cut down what was left of the horse and Charlie washed as best she could with the water they had in canteens. Connor stretched out on one of the seats in the back, Bass rode his horse and Charlie settled next to Miles on the wagon box.

They were a few miles away from the ambush site when she turned to him. “Were you really worried I was going to suggest we butcher those guys too?”

“What?” Miles looked at her like she was crazy. “No. I never even thought you’d think that. Why would you think that?”

“I noticed you were upset and Bass said you were worried I was turning into you.”

Miles shook his head, face showing his irritation. “First of all, I wouldn’t turn cannibal unless I was starving. And we’re certainly not starving.” But he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But yes, I was upset. I was remembering this three year old with a little toy pony who was in tears because I made some joke about horses and dog food and seeing you. . .doing what you do. Yeah, it scares me a little. Not that you’re turning into me. You’re too smart for that. But I don’t. . .hell I don’t want you to have to go through this anymore. You may not realize how much you shut down, after the war with Georgia and the Republic. But you did. And you’ve been so much better since you got back. But this fight, seeing how matter-of-fact you were. It’s going to happen again. And I don’t want that for you.”

She leaned against his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his back. “I don’t think I have a choice about some of it. It’s how I cope. But what’s our choice? Try to hide from them when they come? Because they know who we are. Someone put out a bounty on my mother, but they know exactly where she is. How does that make any sense? So we can hide, or we can fight. And I don’t think we can hide.”

“Still doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“Part of it was I was still dealing with Danny’s death. Finding my Mom. Learning everything about my past no one had bothered to tell me. I know about all that now. And I have all of you. We’re not splitting up this time. This family is crazy, and creepy and has enough demons that I wonder there are any left in hell. But if we have each other.”

“You mean with all our monsters, what can they possibly send against us that is worse than us,” Miles commented and she nodded.

“Yeah, that too.”

 

It was well after dark before they arrived in small town that looked like it had been built entirely after the blackout. The town bar had rooms for rent for the night and they traded the proprietor about fifty pounds of horsemeat for two rooms, dinner and baths. The man suggested trying the livery to stable their horses and that they might even be able to trade more meat for another horse. The owner of the livery had an older mare for sale but she seemed sound, if a little light for Connor so Charlie agreed to switch with him since he probably had close to fifty pounds on her.

The livery owner took a hundred pounds of meat and the wagon for the horse but he offered gold for the rest of it. “Got those Patriots coming through here,” he commented. “They buy whatever food we sell them. Not really picky about what it is either.” Charlie sold him all but eighty pounds and he helped her divide what she kept into four twenty-pound bundles and let her store them over night in his cold room. He also paid her for the hide and she left him stretching it out over a frame, his wife helping him tie the corners.

The bar was mostly quiet and dinner of a savory stew that might have been chicken or rabbit – but would probably be horsemeat stew the next night. The bath was little more than a slipper tub in a woodshed but the water was hot and the girl carrying the water took one look at the amount of dirt and blood in the tub after Charlie’s bath, dumped the tub and brought her fresh water to bathe again. She also, smiling at Charlie's request, came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug. Charlie sipped the bitter brew with a grimace but also a sigh of relief. Wrong time or not, there was something to be said for not tempting fate.

They left at dawn, after a breakfast of steak and eggs but Charlie was pretty sure the steak wasn’t beef. Miles was keeping them at a slow pace so they could avoid Patriot patrols. It wasn’t until almost noon when they met the first one and Miles answered the command to halt by the tan-clad soldier. There were six men in the patrol and most of them had that vacant stare that made her wonder what they did to them.

“And people thought,” Bass commented softly next to her, “that branding was inhumane. These guys are creepy.” 

“On our way back to Willoughby,” Miles was saying to the patrol leader. He was in his mid-twenties, black hair cropped short and heavily muscled but he didn’t appear to be able to look any of them in the face. “I contract for Director Truman, butchering for him. Had to run down to Mexico to pick up my son.”

The patrol leader focused on Charlie and she felt her stomach clench as he glanced between her and Connor. “I’d like the girl and the young man to get off their horses,” he said, his voice emotionless.

“Um, why?” Miles asked. 

“Because I want them to get off their horses.” He finally looked over at Miles, though he didn’t seem to see them but one of his men raised his rifle towards Miles. It was a military assault rifle, not like the rifles they’d seen in Mexico or like the bandit had carried.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Miles snapped. “I work with Director Truman. And that is my son and my niece.”

The patrol leader shrugged like he didn’t care. “And I said they need to get off their horses. I’ve been ordered to bring in conscripts between the ages and twenty and thirty who aren’t Texas citizens.”

“I am a Texas citizen,” Charlie snapped. “I was born here.“ It was a lie. She’d been born in Chicago, but her birth certificate was long gone so it wasn’t like anyone could demand proof.

“You don’t sound Texan,” the patrol leader commented and she shrugged.

“Grew up in New York.” Another lie, but she was suddenly reluctant to give them any details about herself. “Moved back three years ago and my grandfather has lived in Texas all his life and I’m living with him.”

“The boy’s a Texas citizen too,” Bass commented quietly. “Born and raised in Galveston. He was down in Mexico visiting his aunt and uncle and we’re headed back up to Willoughby.”

“If you think we’re lying, you can contact Director Ed Truman in Willoughby and ask him about Charlie Matheson and Connor Bennett.” Miles snapped.

Charlie’s hand was on her thigh, as close as she could get to her boot-knife without attracting attention. The patrol was grouped together and she wondered how fast her mare would respond if she tried to use her as a ram into their ranks but the patrol leader gave them an unfriendly look and stepped back. “Move along,” he snapped and Miles breathed a sigh of relief as the rifleman lowered his weapon and the patrol leader marched his men past them.

They were probably ten minutes down the road before Connor rode his horse closer to Bass and sighed. “Okay, I’m in. That was just wrong.”

“Yeah, it was,” Miles agreed. “Now you see what we’re up against.”

Connor nodded. “Part of me wondered if you all weren’t blowing smoke up my ass. But I get it now.” He took a deep breath. “Are we just going to let them get away with that?”

“What do you suggest,” Bass’ voice was bitter and Charlie realized it was because he was frustrated. “We go back, find them and kill them?”

The look on Connor’s face said that was exactly what he wanted to do and Charlie privately agreed with him but Miles shook his head. “And word gets back that a patrol got killed when we were moving through the area. So we kill a few guys here and few guys there and they just keep coming. But somewhere this monster has a head and we’re going for that. Because we can keep chopping its arms off all day long and it’ll just keep growing more.”

Connor nodded reluctant agreement but Charlie noticed he kept glancing behind them as they rode on.

It was a little before dusk when they rode up Gene’s driveway. Someone had obviously heard the horses because there weren’t even to the barn when Gene, Rachel, Jeremy and Carissa were all spilling out of the house. Connor raised his eyebrows at Carissa – who was actually wearing a uniform, which was rare for her – before focusing on Rachel. His eyes darted between her and Charlie for a moment but then he dismounted in one smooth motion just in front of her. “I’m Miles’ son, Connor. It’s nice to meet you, Aunt Rachel.”

Rachel looked at him as if he were a bug and Charlie saw him almost wince, her eyes glancing between Miles, Bass and Connor and Charlie couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her mother’s expression arranged itself into a smile, but Charlie was glad Carissa was standing behind Rachel instead of in front of her and Charlie saw Connor take a step back. He covered it by patting his horse but Charlie watched Rachel’s smile slip and she took a deep breath, clearly forcing herself to step closer to him, the bitterness fading out of her expression.

“Welcome to the family, Connor.” Rachel took a deep breath and Charlie saw her own shock reflected in Miles and Bass’ faces as Rachel actually hugged Bass’ son. “Your father has been looking for you for a long time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just about doubled in length becuase I originally had them going from their Texas campsite to Gene's driveway and suddenly I realized I wanted a little more action. So the bandit attack seemed like a good comprimise. I was going to have them fight/kill the Patriots patrol as well also but decided it was better to leave them alive, which frustrates all of them a lot. The draw of family had hooked Connor and convinced him to at least stick around a while. Now he's seen what sort of people they're up against and he's still not sure about what he's getting into . . .but he's starting to see that they're not crazy. Well, they kind of are. So maybe better to say they're not just crazy.


	22. Chapter 22

Charlie got the meat stored in the cold room while Bass moved their packs back into their room, sorting out what clothes needed to be washed and Miles helped Connor make a bed out of the sofa in Charlie’s grandmother’s old sewing room, promising to borrow a bed from somewhere the next day.

Charlie was half-way up the stairs when she met Carissa, headed down, her uniform exchanged for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, topped with Gene’s sweater-vest that Jeremy had borrowed the day of the quilting. It had been odd enough seeing Jeremy in her grandfather’s clothes but after their earlier run-in with the Patriot conscription team, it was downright unsettling.

It bothered her that the patrol leader had allowed them to depart so easily. He’d been insistent she and Connor go with him yet they had been allowed to leave on the basis of lie that was flimsy at best. She debated asking Carissa if she knew anything about the conscription teams but decided she needed to ask Miles about it first.

“So how was Mexico?” Carissa asked.

“Interesting. I was glad we were able to find Miles’ son. He’s been searching for him for a while now. It’ll be odd to have a cousin.” Even odder to have the equivalent of a step-son but she couldn’t mention that to Carissa. “So I take it you moved in while we were gone.”

“Do you mind?”

Charlie shrugged. “I said I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but that was before you found your cousin. Having another person around could kind of feel like it was ruining the moment.”

Charlie laughed. “When I found Uncle Miles in a bar in Chicago, I had Aaron and my step-mom, Maggie. A few hours later we were on the run from Militia. About a week later we added Miles’ ex, Nora, to the group. When I found out my Mom was alive I had less than an hour to get to know her again before Sebastian Monroe was using me to blackmail my mother into giving him power. Then my brother died while we were getting settled with a rebel camp. So yeah, I’m not really someone who needs privacy around my relatives.”

“It just seems so odd,” Carissa sighed. “To have a real house to come home to every day, with a family. Even if it’s not my family.”

“What was growing up like for you?” Charlie asked. “I heard you say something about an apartment in D.C. and sisters.”

“There were three of us. All crammed into this tiny little apartment in D.C. Rent as over three thousand dollars a month but we had to have a nice place, because of where my dad worked. My sister Beth and I both got academic scholarships to this boarding school in Maine. I suppose I should be grateful I got used to the whole group-living thing early. I was ten when I started there. Allison always used to complain when we’d come home for vacations because she considered it ‘her’ room. She got accepted into Bellwood too but she was five years older than I was and she’d gotten one of the school-internships at the White House.”

Charlie had seen pictures of the White House, heard all the stories about what it had been like when there had been one President for the whole country. “I wish I could have seen it. Other than in pictures.”

Carissa shrugged. “It kind of got old, seeing it so often. You always had to stand up straight and wear your good clothes and be very, very, very quiet. President Davis was nice, but we always knew we couldn’t bother him.”

Charlie felt her skin turn cold and the hairs on her arms start to stand up. “You met the President?”

Carissa looked worried, as if she had said something she shouldn’t and she leaned close. “Can you keep a secret?” Charlie nodded, feeling bad about lying but she’d have done worse to hear what Carissa was hiding. “My father worked for him. He was President Davis’ secretary.”

Aaron had been very careful to teach American Government, which had never made sense to Charlie since the American Government had ceased to exist long before Aaron had ever dreamed of being a school teacher. “Was he Secretary of State or Secretary of the Defense or one of those?”

Carissa looked a little bitter as she shook her head. “No, nothing like that. He wasn’t in politics. He was a real secretary. Like who typed letters and filed them and made appointments and things like that.” She looked defensive, as if she were expecting Charlie to tell her the jobs didn’t mean anything but Charlie forced herself to nod.

“So he must have known the President really well. Probably better than the other Secretaries of whatever who didn’t know how to do any of those practical things for themselves.” Carissa actually smiled. 

“He did. He said that it didn’t matter if it was sewing on a loose suit button or arranging a hotel room in Istanbul for a private vacation, there wasn’t anything his job didn’t train him to do.”

“He sounds like a neat person,” Charlie sighed, easily able to make her tone wistful at the mention of anyone’s father. “Is he still alive?”

Carissa nodded, glancing both up and down the staircase before leaning in a little closer. “Yeah. He’s in D.C., with President Davis now. There’s not really anything to type or anything like that, but President Davis insisted my father and the whole family come along when the U.S. government went to Cuba. Said he wanted someone he could trust was there for him, not just politics.”

So that, Charlie realized, was how Carissa was connected, and no doubt why she hadn’t been sent to a re-education camp after she became a Patriot. “I thought you were at school in Maine?” Charlie asked. “How did they get you and your sister back from Maine?”

Carissa looked started, her jaw clenching for moment before she said, “My father called the school and had them send Beth and I home on the train two days before the Blackout. My grandmother had had a stroke and we weren’t sure if she was going to live and he wanted us to be there. She was better, by the time we got to D.C., which was for the best because thousands of people died in hospitals that first night. But by the time they knew she was okay Beth and I were already mostly home so he just decided we should stay for a long weekend rather than going straight back to school.”

Daughters brought home from another state on the excuse of a sick grandmother that had been better by the time Carissa had arrived home. That, Charlie decided, was more tangible evidence that the government had known about the Blackout before it happened. Had planned and executed it , most likely. What she didn’t understand was why the President would give up ruling the entire country with power to exiled in Cuba with nothing but a shadow of his former military. But she forced herself to smile, “That was lucky. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be trapped without my family.”

Carissa nodded. “I know. I mean, it’s terrible to know my grandmother nearly died. But if she hadn’t. . . . Sometimes I have nightmares about it.”

Charlie excused herself to finish unpacking but she dumped her bag on the bed and went straight back down to find Miles. He, Jeremy and Connor were still with the horses and she shared Carissa’s information and Jeremy whistled softly. “Well, this could be the in we need to get to the President.” 

Miles nodded. “It could help. My original plan was to start having us set up a resistance cell in D.C. to get possible contacts. If she could do it, it moves our timetable up. Significantly.” At Connor’s questioning look he added, “If it works, maybe one to two years earlier.’

Charlie forced herself to stay calm, though she felt her heart start racing. Nothing ever worked according to plan, she told herself. And there was no reason she should start picturing a farmhouse somewhere that perhaps didn’t exist.

But Connor jabbed an elbow lightly into her side and chuckled. “That sounds better. Charlie’s promised me a sibling and she’d better be prepared to follow through with that.”

Jeremy laughed. “That’s not the reaction I’d have expected.”

“Brother or sister. I’m not picky.”

Bass joined them and they filled him in and Charlie was a little surprised he didn’t seem more pleased but she told herself he’d be more careful to not get his hopes up just because the equally strong possibility that nothing would be resolved quickly. She also caught him sneaking worried glances at her as Miles and Jeremy talked about D.C. logistics and she moved to stand where she could rest her arm around him. He was worried, she realized, that the news she didn’t have years of limbo ahead of them might scare her.

Miles broke off something about a place called Georgetown to shake his head at them. “Okay, if you two need to get a room, we can put this off, you know.”

Jeremy slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “Miles, leave them alone. You could take some lessons from them.”

“Are you two getting married?” Connor asked, his expression suddenly serious and Charlie felt Bass stiffen.

“I don’t think it really matters anymore,” Charlie commented. “Legal marriage.”

“You should,” Connor said and they all stared at him. “Look, I grew up knowing my parents weren’t married. Even when I thought my Dad was dead. And even though people said it didn’t matter so much, not having your parents married, I always wondered about it. And it doesn’t matter really now. But someday it might matter again. . .not to you guys, but what happens with society. So I just think, before you start having kids, you should get married.”

“Still a long way out from that.” Bass snapped but Charlie could feel the way he shifted, as if he were uncomfortable and she saw Miles and Jeremy both glaring at him. “I don’t want to marry her under some fake name,” he finally burst out. “I want it to be as Bass Monroe. And we can’t do that right now.” His arm tightened around her suddenly and he pulled her close against him before turning away from Miles. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head, feeling her throat tighten and Connor cleared his throat. “I get that. And I won’t push it again.” He flushed, then took a deep breath. “I guess the other reason is. . .if she’s married to you, then I’d feel better having to tell you I’m not changing my name.” They all turned to look at him and he rushed on. “I’ve always been Connor Bennett. And I can see that changing it to Connor Monroe could have its advantages. But. . .I. . .I want to keep Bennett.”

Bass took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Emma. . .was one of the best people I ever knew. And I loved her. So I understand.“

Connor looked shocked and relieved both but he smiled. “Thanks. I’ve been dreading saying that for two days.”

Bass snorted. “Trust me, I know better than anyone what a curse the name Monroe can be. I should have never agreed to call the Republic after me. At the time, it was my way of honoring my parents and my sisters. It was the child I never thought I could have. The way for my family’s name to not end with me.”

Jeremy may have been joking, Charlie realized, but he’d meant it when he’d told Charlie she’d be kindest to put a bullet in Bass if she ever wanted to leave him. She tightened her arm around him and was rewarded by one of his smiles. 

“So what do we do with this information about Carissa and her father?”

Miles arched an eyebrow at her. “For right now? Nothing. We still have to find out how far she’s willing to go for the Patriots. And that’s going to take a little time.“

 

Rachel had made venison and rice stew for dinner but she fried up several horse-steaks as well and served them as toasted sandwiches. Connor had told her several times that he hadn’t cared about the horse but Charlie noticed he stuck to stew and she hid a smile and made a quick note to make sure that whenever they were eating horsemeat, to get him venison instead.

Apparently whatever had been wrong with the boats had been fixed because Jeremy griped about having three loads of fish show up at once while they had been gone and it had taken he, Rachel and Gene almost two days to get them gutted.

“You should have said something,” Carissa commented. “We could have gotten you some additional help. We usually have someone sitting around who’s sprained or broke something or done something stupid who can use a little extra work.”

“It was good for him,” Rachel commented. “Besides, since it’s our contribution, it looks a little odd if we’re getting you do our dirty work for you. Besides, now that they’re back, we have plenty of help again. Connor, you’ve barely eaten anything, sure I can’t make you a sandwich?”

“No,” Connor said, smiling and patting his stomach. “I’m full.”

Rachel looked at him like she was worried. “Really, there’s –“

“Mom,” Charlie cut Rachel off. “He’s fine.”

Rachel glared at her, opening her mouth but Bass interrupted. “So, Carissa, how’s everything going on your front? Anything special?”

Carissa shrugged, her face twisting into a wry smile. “Nothing I can really talk about at dinner, no. So, Connor, what’s it like to meet your father?”

Connor shrugged and Charlie could tell he was forcing himself to look at Miles. “Like anyone finding out his father was a co-founder of the Monroe Republic?” the young man finally said and the Patriot Captain winced.

“Okay, um, so what was life like in Mexico. I hear the crops are great. Mild winters.”

“Well, not sure about the other crops but the man who took me in after my Aunt and Uncle died grew marijuana. Great climate for that. Between the tequila, the pot and the brothels, he was rolling in profit.”

Carissa arched an eyebrow and sighed while Connor glared at her defiantly. Finally the Patriot Captain turned and smiled at Charlie. “Would you say – in terms of awkward – is this better or worse than the dinner where Ann and I totally missed your PTSD symptoms, insulted your war-record with Georgia and Paul tried to recruit your boyfriend while we were attempting to apologize?”

Charlie shrugged, hiding her smile. “Much worse. But nowhere near as bad as when you tried to arrest James on suspicion of being Sebastian Monroe. . .oh, sorry, detained, not arrested.”

Carissa nodded slowly, her lips twisting. “I just really don’t communicate well with this family, do I?” Jeremy was laughing silently, his forearm pressed over his mouth as Connor glared at her. Carissa took another spoonful of soup, glancing over at Connor. “Sorry.”

He shrugged, glanced around the table and Charlie could tell the exact moment he started to think the conversation was funny because he looked at her, than Carissa. “That’s okay. Before I found out she was my cousin, I called Charlie a whore.”

Carissa looked a little more cheerful. “Really?”

“I didn’t mind,” Charlie added. “We had just sort of abruptly re-located him without giving him a choice.

Carissa glanced back and forth between Bass and Connor and Charlie held her breath as the woman’s gaze sharpened but she eventually gestured between them. “So what’s with the matching bruises on the foreheads?”

“We ran into bandits,” Bass muttered and Connor nodded enthusiastically.

“I managed to shoot the one who’d shot my horse, before he could kill anyone else.” He gaze went to the plate of sandwiches and abruptly the smile vanished. Rachel sucked in a breath like she’d had a thought and she grabbed the stew ladle and poured another serving into Connor’s empty bowl. He nodded at her and began eating again.

Carissa looked at the plate of sandwiches, her face turning a little greenish, even though Charlie had made sure to mention what they were. "So, anything else interesting happen?"

Miles looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Nothing we can really talk about at dinner. No."

Carissa opened her mouth as if to counter that then nodded. "Probably good. Anyone else have anything interesting to share?"

"I hear," Jeremy said, "there's some household joke about gutting fish. But Gene wouldn't tell me what it was."

"Not," Rachel said firmly, "at dinner."

 

Carissa and Jeremy were the first to excuse themselves and go to bed, Gene following them up the stairs. Connor’s eyes followed Bass as he gathered up the empty plates and bowls and carried them to the sink.

“Sorry about the sandwiches,” Charlie said softly. “I can sell the rest of it so –“

“Oh, I don’t mind watching the rest of you eat it,” Connor interrupted. “I was planning on eating it too. I. . .just couldn’t. It would be different if I was starving, but. . .” He glanced at where Bass was stacking plates. “I know it’s weak. The son of General. . . .” His gaze darted towards the stairs. “Of General Matheson should be able to eat his own horse.”

Bass nodded. “Yes. He should. Thank goodness you may take after your mother after all.” 

Connor looked surprised and Miles grinned at him. “We can only hope.” He rose from his seat. “Breakfast is usually on our own. Whatever’s in the larder. Bass generally handles lunch, dinner and dishes. If you need something washed, talk to Charlie. She handles the laundry. Rachel does most of the other housework.“ Rachel didn’t respond when Connor turned to her. She was, Charlie noticed, glaring at the wall without seeming to notice any of them.

“And about. . .” Connor’s gaze went to the ceiling.

“Later.” Miles promised. “You okay?” he asked, turning to Rachel.

Rachel jerked, as if unaware they had all been looking at her for the last few moment, which was unusual for Rachel to miss anything. “Sorry, I’m fine. Just thinking about something.” She went back to staring at the wall and Miles shrugged.

“We’ll give you a day or two,” Miles continued, “to get into the groove of what’s going on around here and we’ll get you into the routine. This many people living this close, we all help.” 

Connor nodded. “Sounds good. I’ve never really done much housework before but I’m willing to learn.”

 

Whether they were just that quiet or Charlie was tireder than she realized, but she heard no sounds from Jeremy’s room but when she came down the next morning to find Carissa eating eggs and toast, the Patriots Captain’s expression practically screamed that she’d gotten laid. “Pan’s still hot if you want any?” Carissa commented Charlie yawned.

“Probably should. Do you know where my cousin went?” The door to the sewing room had been empty, all traces of the sheets and blanket gone. She’d have been worried he had skipped out on them after all but if he had done that, he wouldn’t have cleaned up after himself. Carissa’s expression went from smug to panicked but finally settled on pitying. “What?” Charlie asked.

“ Not sure how to say this,” Carissa said warily and Charlie felt her heart start to pound. “But. . .well, he slept in Rachel’s room.”

The words made no sense for a moment and Charlie felt her mouth hanging open. “Are you saying my mother. . . .” Charlie trailed off, and Carissa shook her head.

“Your mother wasn’t in there.” 

Charlie let out the breath she was holding. “What time was this?”

“When Rachel brought him up? Midnight. Maybe a little later. Told him it was silly to have him on the couch when there was an empty room.”

The abstracted look on Rachel’s face last night, Charlie realized, had been her mother making a decision and Charlie let shock and outrage vie until the emotions were spent. It was going to take a little time to get used to, she decided. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t known it would be coming. Didn’t mean she wasn’t more than a little glad they’d be having a bit of happiness as well. But she suddenly sympathized with the way Miles would get all freaked out when anyone brought up the subject of her and Bass and how he’d try to avoid the details.

“Huh, well. . .good for them.” A lot of getting used to. But she wanted nothing less for them and she felt a small smile start.

Carissa shook her head, going back to her eggs. “None of you ever react like I expect you to. You know none of this normal, right?”

“You know, Connor said the same thing a few days ago. He thinks we need therapy.” Carissa didn’t look like she disagreed. “Miles asked if he knew any therapists and he didn’t. I don’t suppose you do?” Carissa appeared to think about it for a minute but then shook her head. “See. That’s the problem. They’re like movies. They don’t exist anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot shorter than I planned. It actually feels like just a transition piece that should have another action sequence attached to it. But I've worked on it for nearly a week now and it's not going anywhere else.
> 
> It may be a while before I post anything else because I am working on a section that is a lot further along. I have an ending that needs a little work, an epilogue that I love (ten years later), and bits and pieces that are between here and the ending that need filled out and joined together. I still have the handwritten section where they tell Carissa who they really are but they all need to live together for a little longer first before they break that to her and I'm at a loss on how to do that and still make it interesting. 
> 
> So while I am not ruling out another chapter (or two or three or four) before I have the whole thing finished, I'm also not promising anything either. What I'd really love is to get the whole thing finished and posted and totally done with. . .but then again, I really don't know what I'm going to do after that because I've had so much fun writing this. It certainly turned about a lot longer than I had originally planned. And then after a month or so I am going to do some serious editing because this whole thing is full of typos and more than a few inconsistencies. Like Carissa's hair color. I'm pretty sure she's switched back and forth from being blonde to brunette more than twice (for the record, she's going to eventually end up a brunette. . .there are already enough blondes in that house). And Bass' birth year. I was off on that originally by 7 years (thank you Imluvinmythesaurus for that catch. . .I did go back and change the year from 1989 to 1982).
> 
> As usual, if anyone has any suggestions of something they'd like to see, let me know. I can't promise I'll work it in. . .but I will see what I can do and no telling what it might inspire.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to MDRevolutionFan for giving me an idea that helped break through the writers block I've been having.

After her talk with Carissa, Charlie changed her mind about breakfast and went back to bed, cuddling against Bass, trying to decide if she should congratulate her mother and Miles or ignore the whole situation until one of them brought it up. She must have fallen asleep again but she woke to Bass coming into their room and handing her a plate with a sandwich she was pretty sure was horsemeat but that he informed her smugly had both cherry and strawberry jam on it.

“It this breakfast or lunch?” she asked and he shrugged. “Breakfast. It’s only about nine-ish. I couldn’t sleep and got hungry and ended up making some for everyone except Carissa, who’d already left. Not sure when I got stuck doing breakfasts as well as lunches and dinners.”

“Your fault for getting up early.” She was surprised it hadn’t woken her when he’d gotten up. Her entire life her sleeping habits had always been catnaps. Even in the nearly year and a half since Danny’s death some part of her had still been convinced she needed to check on him and for months she would wake and panic when she couldn’t hear him breath before the sick realization would set in that he didn’t need her any longer.

But in the time she and Bass had been together she was starting to notice that she’d been sleeping longer stretches, waking less frequently or easily. Part of her was comforted that she was moving on; most of her grieved for that same reason.

She handed Bass the empty plate back and swung her legs to the floor, pulling on the same clothes she’d worn the day before. Her hair was a tangled mess and her skin felt grimy. It wasn’t anything new, but she’d gotten used to regular baths and clothes that didn’t still have travel stains on them. Most of the things that was every-day type wear was still dirty after the trip to Mexico.

Gene’s old sweatpants and the worn t-shirt that she used if she had to get up in the middle of the night were probably the cleanest things she had so she shoved them into a backpack and took a towel from the hall closet. After a moment she went back into the bedroom to shove her dirty laundry into a bag. She leaned over and kissed Bass on the cheek. “Do you have anything you want washed?”

“My blue shirt and those jeans there if you could? I’ll do the rest of it this afternoon after I get lunch started. I was thinking of just roasting up a bunch of the horsemeat and doing sandwiches for the rest of the week for lunch. I haven’t decided about dinner yet. “

“Roast some venison for Connor, would you. I know he feels bad but –“

“If my son,” Bass stated, “feels morally conflicted about anything, I’m absolutely going to encourage it. In fact, I even made him eggs for breakfast.”

“Glad to know you’re not offended he has an emotional streak. I think it’s surprising him.”

“My son, emotional? Yeah, I didn’t see that one coming.” He grimaced and his face went serious. “I admit, I didn’t like him when we first met.” And he had made sure, Charlie realized, that everyone – including Connor – had known it. But just by the fact Bass had used the words “my son” twice in the last two sentences was heartening. “I just couldn’t believe any child of mine would be so stupid. Then again, considering he is mine. . .well, fortunately he seems to have more of Emma in him than I first gave him credit.”

“Don’t sell yourself too short,” Charlie commented. “You do have your moments.” She shoved the rest of her laundry and a few other pieces of his into her bag and made her way through the house and out the back door to the bath-shed.

She pulled open the door only to find Connor sitting in the tub and they both yelped in surprise. She turned her head away, feeling her cheeks flush, even if all she had seen was his back. “Sorry,” she called, partially shutting the door.

“I’ll be out in just a minute,” he called back.

“Take your time. I can go do my laundry first.” She shut the door the rest of way and decided – with as many people as they had in the house, it was probably a good idea to come up with a lock for the inside, even if it was just a bar of wood in the door.

She walked to the covered area where a pair of old sinks shared a wall with the water-boiler. She dumped her bag of clothes into one and opened the tap to fill the sink with warm water. She scrubbed them against the tin washboard. The water was downright dirty so she unplugged the drain that had a hose that ran out into the garden. She refilled the sink, this time adding soap, re-scrubbing the clothes.

She turned when she heard the bath-shed door open and Connor came out wearing just a part of shorts, a towel draped over his shoulders. He carried a green cloth bag and his face was a little guilty. “Can you show me how to do laundry?”

At her look he sighed. “I know, it’s stupid. And I have washed my own clothes before. But it’s been a few years and I don’t think I really know how to do it right.”

“How old were you, when the Blackout happened?”

“I was eleven. Mom and I were living with my grandparents about 60 miles from Jasper. It was a small town – pretty much a farming community so we weren’t too bad off. Grandpa had always done a lot of wood-working so he became a carpenter and was able to trade labor for food. Mom and I both helped him a lot while Grandma took care of the house. Grandma died when I was about fourteen. Pneumonia. Grandpa died about a year later. He kind of just stopped caring about being alive after Grandma died. Mom talked about moving back to Jasper a couple of times – Grandpa had never sold their house there but she seemed nervous about it. I never knew why. Then one day this Militia squad came to billet outside of town. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. Real Soldiers. I mean, how could that not be great? My Dad had been some stupid mechanic who hadn’t even bothered to marry my mom before he’d died. And what use was a mechanic after the blackout anyway.” Charlie refrained from glancing over to where the taps had been added to the wall or mentioning the ways they’d been able to do things like convert trucks into carts or make flush toilets work by gravity and levers.

“So I started hanging out in their camps a lot. Building stuff for them. Talking about enlisting when I was old enough, though there were Militia Soldiers there who were younger than me. I even talked to Mom about it one day but she totally freaked out. I know she stayed up really late one night writing a letter and went to the Militia camp really early the next morning. I thought she was going to tell them to stay away from me but she just gave one of them a letter and came home. I thought maybe it was to the Lieutenant who was in charge but he never said anything to me until about a week later when I went out and got told I couldn’t be there that day because General Matheson was coming to visit. Lt Barnes said to come out the next day to meet General Matheson but when I go there they were tearing the whole camp down. Said the General had ridden in, gave them orders they were to come with him for some special new orders then left again. They were gone by the next morning. Then a month later this guy shows up, says his name is Miles and Mom tells me I need to go with him so I can be safe. And she wouldn’t explain anything else.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

She finished scrubbing her clothes and threw them into the other sink, filling it half-full of water and took the bag from Connor and tossed the clothes into the water she’d just used. “Doesn’t it need to be clean water?” he asked.

“It’s just a pre-wash. Gets most of the caked dirt off. You can skip it if you don’t have time or water but it’s a good idea.” She showed him how to scrub the clothes against the washboard and his eyebrows rose at how quickly the water turned dark. She drained it, poured in fresh water and showed him how to add soap so it got onto everything. She moved over to swirl her own clothes in water to try to get them rinsed. “So Miles took you to Mexico?”

“Yeah. Mom said it would be good for me to see my Uncle and Aunt again. I actually remembered them pretty well. They’d visited a lot when I was little and had been home the Christmas before the Blackout. I. . .I though it was because she was afraid I’d join the Militia.. And I was mad at her because. . .I don’t know, I think I thought she was worried I’d get killed and I couldn’t believe she’d underestimate me like that . That she thought I couldn’t take care of myself.” He was scrubbing too hard. A few washings like that and he’d wear holes in the shirt but Charlie understood the need to sometimes transform emotion into action.

“She had told me she’d let me come home in a few years. But every time I wrote she kept saying it wasn’t safe only she wouldn’t say what that meant. When Uncle Gary and Aunt Susan died, all I could think was that she must not want me at all. So when Nunez found me starving, he offered me a place and I decided I’d show her. So I never told her, in any of my letters, other than that I had a job working for a farmer. Then she stopped writing about a year ago. I wondered if she’d gotten married again or something and just wanted to forget about me.” He was openly crying and Charlie turned and put her arms around him. He stiffened and tried to pull away but after a moment he relaxed, his head resting against her shoulder as he sobbed into it. She patted him on the back, vaguely aware she was making some kind of soothing noise and pulled him closer. “Go ahead and get it out. I tried so hard not to cry after my brother died. And it messed me up..”

He finally stepped away, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I know I just asked you to help me wash clothes. You probably didn’t want my whole life story to go along with it.” He sniffed and she touched his arm.

“Actually, a little more makes sense now. Thank you for telling me. Have you told him?”

Connor snorted, wiping at his eyes. “Please, he really wouldn’t want to hear about it. I’m a disgrace to the family name or something like that. Can’t even eat my own horse. And he knows it. He made horsemeat for everyone else and didn’t even say anything when he handed me eggs.”

Charlie bit her lips to keep from smiling because she realized how serious this was to him. “You two act a lot alike sometimes.” Connor shook his head, looking a little defiant. “You think he made you eggs because he thinks you’re weak. But he told me twice this morning how glad he is you’re like your Mom and that he’s proud of you. Didn’t even call you Connor. Referred to you as ‘my son.’ Twice. He’s doing it to try to be supportive, because he’s terrified to actually say anything.”

“How does this make us alike?”

“You believe he thinks you’re weak. And he thinks you believe he abandoned you on purpose. And neither of you will dare do anything other than present this attitude that you don’t care. Because then, if the other one rejects you, it won’t hurt as bad.”

“He thinks I’m a useless punk.”

“And he thinks you believe he’s a monster. He’s scared. Last person he let this close was Miles. And Miles ended up trying to kill him. So he doesn’t let people in.”

“What about you?”

She snorted. “We’ve shared a bed for nearly three months now. We talk about wanting out relationship to just be about us. . .but his first big fight with Miles, and he doesn’t even consider that I might have agreed with him Miles was wrong. I mean, yeah, my life would have been easier if Miles had out a bullet in his head that night and ended it for everyone. I get why he couldn’t. . . but he totally messed Bass up.“

She could hear the bitterness in her own voice and it surprised her. Connor raised one eyebrow, tilting his head. “You ever want out?”

She shook her head. “Nope. There’s a lot of days I wish I could go back and change things. Like what if my parents had gone to Miles and Bass and told them why they wouldn’t turn the power back on. I think they might have understood. Agreed, no. But what if I’d grown up in Philadelphia and Mom and Dad had been there with them? Sometimes I wonder if they turned into monsters just because everyone thought they were. At least, I thought of Monroe as a monster. When I was trying to find my brother. But it was more like he just didn’t know when to quit and the one person he trusted had betrayed him. And I don’t even know how I got started on this. “ Her eyes were wet and she brushed at them, then swished her hands back in the laundry to finish rinsing her clothes. She pulled them out and tossed them in a bucket then showed him how to double-rinse his own to get the rid of the soap.

They carried the wet clothes to a machine that was two rollers close together that turned with a hand crank and fed the laundry through it. Water poured off as the clothes dropped into the basket on the other side. She ran everything through twice to get as much water off as she could. Her back was to him but she could feel he was still watching her but he didn’t speak until they were carrying things over to the line.

“I think you were starting to try to tell me we both try to put up this front about not needing anyone. Am I wrong?”

“No. It’s an impressive front, I’ll give you that. But don’t buy it. And you might want to consider not trying to even sell to others. Not here.”

“Unless that Patriot Captain is around?”

She shrugged. “Okay, you’ve got me there. Yeah, I guess it is kind of crazy here.”

“Kind of crazy? I’m living in the same house as my real father; who turns out to be Sebastian Monroe. Only he’s pretending not to be. And I’m pretending I’m Miles Matheson’s son. Who was really my mother’s ex-fiance. And how the heck does everyone not see right through this because I think I look like my father.”

“Like Miles said, people believe what you tell them. Actually, I think you look a little more like your mom.”

His head came up sharply. “You knew my mother?”

She shook her head. “I never got to meet her. But I did see her, right before she died.”

“Will you tell me about it? Everyone talks around it but no one will tell me how it really happened.”

“Can you wait til Miles and Bass are here too? I agree you need to hear it but they need to be there.” When he nodded she smiled. “Thank you.“ 

“They were both there, weren’t they?”

“We all were. So was Jeremy in fact.”

“Sorry, I said I’d wait and here I keep asking questions.” He looked so conflicted she dropped Bass’ shirt back into the bucket and put an arm around his back.

“It’s okay. When my Dad died and I found out who Miles really was. . . I didn’t handle it well. You’re not doing too bad.”

Connor swiped at his cheeks again. “I don’t even know why I’m crying now. This is ridiculous.”

Charlie moved her hand to pat him roughly on the shoulder. “Welcome to the family. We all cry a lot around here.” He looked like he didn’t believe her and she shrugged. “Okay, Miles may not. But the rest of sure do.”

He glared at her and his tone was suspicious. “You tell me my Dad cries but I haven’t seen it yet.” He paused. “Other than whatever happened between him and Miles that night around the campfire. But that was just once and I’ve probably cried about five times today.”

“Just wait til you ask him about what happened to your Mom. You’ll see. Or ask about your grandparents. Or your Aunts. Or Shelley and the baby. Or about my Dad and brother. Or about him thinking he’d killed Jeremy. Or about my Mom. Or Miles. Or about him thinking he’d never find you. ” At his dark look she sighed. “Just talk to him about anything. Not just to see if he’ll cry. He’s terrified you’re going to hate him. That’s why he’s pushing you away.”

“Does he do that to you?”

She nodded. “He does that to everyone. Not on the surface. He’s playing James Kingston so hard right now it’s almost hard to see the real Bass Monroe sometimes.”

“So he’s not really like this. This whole dishes and cooking thing?”

“No, he’s really like this. But that’s not all of him.” She took a deep breath. “Just like I don’t think you’re just all you’re pretending to be. This ‘I don’t need anyone act.’ You’re actually good enough at it I kind of bought it myself at first. But that’s not all there is, is it?” He was probably biting his tongue, she realized, with how hard his jaw muscles were clenched. “She didn’t want t get rid of you. She was scared for you.”

She almost felt like a ragdoll as Connor crushed her against him, his head buried in her chest as he went to his knees in front of her. His sobs were loud and she could see the skin on his ears and neck turning red as he pressed against her. She put one arm around his shoulders and the other on the top of his head, leaning over to whisper against his hair. “It’s okay.”

 

Connor was finishing up with the wringer when Charlie came out of the bath shed. He had volunteered to wash the clothes she’d been wearing while she took her bath and he’d apparently decided to wash the towed he’d had over his shoulders because all he was wearing was a the pair of shorts.

“You know, for living in Mexico, you’d think you’d have tanned more.” He looked up and grinned at her.

“You’d think. I may not have gotten my mother’s red hair, but I got her skin and I burn like crazy. Then it all peels off and I go back to being fish-white again. Besides, Cartel Nunez did most of its enforcement at night. And I wore a lot of long sleeves.”

She chuckled. “So you trying to prove Texas sunshine is puny compared to Mexico?”

He looked a little embarrassed but then just shrugged. “Truth is,” he jerked his head in the direction of the clothes line, “everything I own to wear is right there. “

“Oh shit, I forgot about that.“

“I found these,” he waved at the shorts, “in Rachel’s dresser.” I don’t really think they’re Gene’s style so kind of makes me wonder whose they were?”

It made Charlie wonder too, but she dismissed the thought and waved at him. “Come on. With four other males in the house that aren’t too different sized, we should be able to get you a few changes of clothes. “

Rachel was in the kitchen when Connor and Charlie walked in the door and Rachel’s brow creased but she shook her head, as if she didn’t want to think about something. “Where is everyone,” Charlie asked. “We need to get Connor some clothes.”

“Dad and Jeremy went to town. Not sure where Miles and Bass are.” Mellow wasn’t quite the phrase she’d use to describe Rachel. But she seemed more relaxed and Charlie walked over and gave her a hug. Rachel looked surprised but returned it, before she glanced again at Connor and smiled. “Haven’t seen those in years.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Hope you don’t mind my borrowing them. But my clothes really stank.”

“No, it’s fine. I went through a surfing phase for a while.”

“You wore those,” Charlie asked, hearing the surprise in her own voice. She was shocked when Rachel actually blushed. It was only a faint pink but it was something she’d never seen her mother do.

“Um, no. Those belonged to a. . .friend of mine. I vaguely remember shoving them in a drawer when he forgot them.”

There was just a hint of amusement in Connor’s voice as he asked, “So what did he wear home?” and Rachel’s face got just a little redder.

“I was going to make bread,” Rachel said, her voice firm. “We’re just about out.”

“Thought my. . .James did all the cooking around here?” Connor asked.

“Except bread.” Charlie told him. “His is terrible. Really flat and tough.”

“He kneads it too hard,” Rachel said, her face impassive, but the flush hadn’t quite faded from her ears. “I’ve tried to show him how to be gentle, but he keeps forgetting.” Charlie wasn’t sure why that sentence made her blush but Rachel looked exasperated. “ Dad has some stuff upstairs. Charlie, why don’t you help him find it?”

They were halfway up the stairs when Connor looked back towards the kitchen and leaned closer to her. “So, um. About Rachel and . . . .”

“And Miles. I know about it. If that’s what you’re asking?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I had just about to fall asleep when she came down and told me to follow her. The whole walk upstairs I had no idea what was going on. “ He leaned closer and his voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s not that she’s not hot, because she kind of is. But the way she was looking at me. . .it was like I didn’t even exist. When she took me into her bedroom I was about to start freaking out because I started to wonder what she was going to do to me and all the sudden she looked at me like she knew what I was thinking and said in this super patient voice, like she was talking to a kid, that she wasn’t going to be using her room and thought it was only fair that I not have to sleep on the couch. Then she left and I saw her go into Miles’ room and I felt like I was a total idiot.”

“Remember what I said about her?”

“Yeah. I’m actually starting to get what you meant about that. She’s a little intense sometimes. And at other times it’s like she’s not even there. It’s a little. . . .disconcerting.”

“Go ahead, you can just say creepy.”

“It’s your mom. I’m trying to be polite.”

“I’m sleeping with your dad. You don’t have to be.” That surprised a laugh out of him and she opened the door to Gene’s bedroom. It was also a corner room, albeit on the opposite corner of the hall from her own. She checked the drawers before coming up with a pair of dark jeans and a gray t-shirt. “Go ahead and put these on for right now. We can talk to Miles and Bass. They’re probably closer to your build.” She had thought of raiding Jeremy’s clothes as well but decided she didn’t want to risk looking through his things. Though she was becoming more and more convinced his outrageous habits were nothing more than a mask, she wouldn’t put it past him to have props for the character he so often played. “It probably won’t rival whatever you had down in Mexico. But,” she jerked her head towards him. “It’ll keep the sun away.”

He actually laughed and then shook his head. “This time five days ago I really thought I understood my life. Then I walked in that bar.”

“If you could do it over, would you just stay inside the house and let us leave?”

He took a deep breath and looked around Gene’s room. “I. . .don’t know. No. I wish I could. But I. . .think I need this.”

She nodded. “Good. Now, go get dressed and then why don’t we go watch my mother snipe with your father while she makes bread and he cooks who the hell knows what for dinner. And maybe the two of you can try actually talking to each other. Because, and trust me on this, he’s glad you’re here too. Maybe time to let each other know that.” The look he gave her said he would probably rather slit his wrists but she’d seen the same look on Bass’ face, on Miles’, on her mother’s and she was sure she’d worn it herself plenty of times. “Let’s go. Time to go connect. That’s the hard part.”

“What’s the easy part?”

“The crying. But it’s pretty pointless if you can’t use all those emotions to get closer to the people around you.”

“At this rate I’m going to end up dehydrated.”

She shrugged. “I did that. Just a couple of days before we headed down to Mexico.”

“Cried so much you dehydrated?”

“No. But I did almost throw up on Aaron.” He frowned. “Have we told you about Aaron yet?”

“I. . .I honestly can’t remember.” He sounded lost and a little pathetic and she patted him on the shoulder.

“Just another family member. Though he doesn’t live here. He used to. Bass and I have his old room. He lives in town with his girlfriend, Cynthia.” He was starting to look at her like she was crazy and she sighed. “You’ll get used to. And hey, if you do get dehydrated, my grandfather is a doctor. He can give you an IV.” He didn’t look reassured and she sighed again. “Will you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope.”

 

Dinner was pancakes, eggs and sausage patties that Charlie thought were actually pork until Bass handed Connor his plate with slices of roast venison instead of sausage.

“Interesting choice,” Carissa commented, slathering her pancakes with strawberry jam. “Do we often to breakfast dinners here?”

Bass shrugged. “Not usually. But I ended up falling asleep in the bathtub and pancakes sounded good.”

“They are,” the Patriot Captain admitted. “The ones they made for us in Cuba were produced in mass batches and they were always a little dry. I know you think this whole eight-people-in-a-house is a crowd but this is the fewest number I’ve had to live with for most of my life.”

In addition to the smell of pancakes and sugar and spice from the sausages the kitchen smelled of the bread Rachel had pulled from the oven just before they sat to eat. “So,” Connor asked, looking at Miles. “Dad, got any clothes I can borrow?”

Carissa looked a little surprised. “What happened to the ones you brought?”

Charlie cleared her throat. “He didn’t. We didn’t. . .really give him a chance to pack.”

Connor grinned at the Patriot. “You only heard a few bits of the story last night. I was working in a drug cartel and they didn’t exactly ask if I wanted to come.”

“I remember the bit about tequila, pot and brothel’s.” Carissa murmured.

“Well,” Bass said, his voice gravelly. “We actually did ask if he wanted to come. But when he said no we decided not to take that as the final answer.”

Carissa’s eyes flitted to the bruises on both their foreheads and suddenly hid a smile, as if she thought they had probably hit each other. A moment later she looked confused again. “So. . .you don’t seem to mind being here now?”

“Changed my mind. Charlie said some things that made me think about it a little.”

“Was that before or after you called her a whore?” Gene winced as Carissa shot a guilty look at Charlie. “Sorry.” 

Charlie shrugged. “After. I just gave him the crash course on our crazy family that I wish someone had given me.”

“I decided I wanted to see if she was exaggerating or not. I thought she was exaggerating.”

“What’s your opinion now?” Jeremy asked.

Connor snorted and Jeremy grinned. “Do you even have to ask?”

“No. I guess not.”

 

Jeremy took Connor on a tour of Willoughby and the surrounding area the next morning and less than two hours later Aaron arrived, trailed by what looked like a surprisingly reluctant Cynthia, who immediately came over to Charlie. “Hey, how are you feeling?” Cynthia asked.

“A lot better than last time you saw me. You okay?” Charlie stood up from where she had been weeding in what little remained of the garden. They were down to getting some winter lettuce out of it but there were also some over-winter melons that were starting to mature and an entire long bed of potatoes that weren’t quite ready yet.

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Aaron insisted he wanted to come meet Miles’ son. It’s kind of odd. Every time I want to come over I have to practically drag him because he says we shouldn’t intrude. Then this morning we hear that you, Miles and James came back from Mexico with Miles son and I thought maybe give it a few days but Aaron was adamant.”

For once Aaron had bypassed her, Charlie was surprised to see and appeared to be having a nearly whispered argument with Miles on the front porch. “Connor’s still out with Jeremy.”

“That was the other thing that I didn’t understand. We did see them riding though but they were headed away from here but Aaron insisted it has to be now.” Cynthia just looked miserable and Charlie put a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Cynthia sniffled. “It’s just that after he died he would get so irrational about little things that made no sense. And then he seemed like he got better. But today, it was like he was right back there again. It’s not that I mind him getting upset if he has a reason –we all do it – but I’m not sure what set him off.”

Charlie led the way over the pump and Cynthia grabbed the handle and pumped a thin stream of water for Charlie to rinse the dirt off her hands. “Thanks. No, I think I know what he’s upset about. And it’s not really all that irrational.”

To her credit, Cynthia didn’t actually ask what it was and Charlie didn’t volunteer the information. So far the few people that had stopped in to see Gene had all commented that Connor looked just like Miles, which apparently was what people were suppose to say when someone had a new child – baby or full grown adult. But Aaron – who knew that that Connor was really Bass’ son – was no doubt focusing on the chin and the curls, that were purely Monroe.

By the time they got up to the porch Aaron was looking more comfortable and Cynthia – clearly confused but grateful – slipped her arm through his. Miles nodded at them. “If you don’t mind eating horse you should stay. James is making sandwiches.”

“Sure, why not,” Aaron said. “Besides, I want to meet your son.” He blinked a couple of times, something Charlie had noticed he did when he found something ridiculous but was playing along.

“Are you sure it won’t be any trouble?” Cynthia asked, her voice tentative and Miles snorted.

“Cynthia, you are probably the sanest person who comes into this household. Trust me, it’s not a problem. Come one.”

 

Gene and Rachel were called out just before lunch for one of the farmers who had gone into labor and Jeremy and Connor weren’t back yet so it was just Bass, Miles, Charlie, Cynthia and Aaron. Bass had two slabs of meat on the counter and smiled slightly. “I usually make venison for Connor instead of horse but any of the rest of you want some?”

Aaron snorted. “I’m okay with horse. Connor doesn’t like horse?”

Miles shook his head. “He doesn’t usually mind it. But in this case, it was his horse.”

One of Aaron’s eyebrows went up. “Huh. I wouldn’t have expected your son,” he turned quickly to Miles, “to care.”

Bass’ grin was sharp and he cut into the roast with unusual vigor. “Well, in this case, we decided to humor him. Cynthia?”

“Horse will be fine. Might as well save the venison.”

“So how’s it been going, getting to know your son?” Aaron asked, his voice practically dripping with irony and Cynthia slapped him lightly on the arm.

“Aaron, be nice. This can’t be easy for either Miles or Connor.”

“It’s going okay,” Miles said, smiling at Cynthia like he was grateful then glaring at Aaron but Charlie was pretty sure Aaron noticed the smirk behind it. “It’s a little awkward but that’s to be expected. He’s not doing to bad fitting in with the family. Charlie seems to have adopted him a little and that’s making it easier.” Aaron’s snort at the word adopted was barely audible but Charlie could see Bass turning away quickly, probably to hide a smile. Cynthia either missed it or chose to ignore it. “He’ll probably end up getting bored because they pretty much had one big party going on where he lived. But he’s trying.”

“We should have a dance here,” Cynthia announced. “The church used to do a few every year; a potluck and dance for the town. I should talk to Pastor Bates about it. We should have done one around Christmas or New Years but everyone just got so caught up in the aftermath of the Andovers, we missed it.”

Aaron snorted again and Cynthia glared at him. “Even you might have fun.”

“Sorry,” Aaron muttered. “It’s I’m not a fan of organized religion.”

“You’re just not a fan of any organized religion that doesn’t center on technology. Most religious organizations focused on fellowship. What do you think those video game groups pretty much were?” They were smiling at each other, as if were an old argument they both enjoyed and Aaron shrugged as if he were conceding the point.

Jeremy and Connor walked in and Jeremy came over to greet Cynthia with a kiss on the cheek. Aaron glared at him but then turned to look at Connor, who was standing in the doorway, looking wary.

She had told him they were family but she had neglected to mention, Charlie realized, how much they knew. “Aaron and Cynthia,” she said. “This is Miles’ son, Connor. Connor, this is Aaron and Cynthia that I was telling you about yesterday.”

“Oh hey, nice to meet you,” Connor said, coming forward. He glanced between them looking a little more comfortable but Jeremy grabbed Cynthia’s hand.

“Cyn, can you be a dear and check my favorite jacket for me. I’m worried about one of the sleeves and that it might be coming loose and I don’t know if it really is or it’s just my imagination but I’d hate to have to get rid of it if it does.”

“Of course,” Cynthia said and Jeremy stood. 

“Let me run upstairs and get it and I’ll be right. . .nah, just go ahead and come up with me. “ He grabbed her hand and she followed him. “I’ve had this thing for years and I know it may be totally faux passé to wear Monroe Republic uniform items, even if I did get rid of the insignia. But I’ve had this thing for years and it just fits so well that. . . .his voice trailed off as they climbed the stairs and Connor glanced after him.

“Wasn’t that a bit obvious?” Connor asked and Charlie shook her head.

“It would be but I doubt he’ll stop talking the whole time so she won’t have a chance to even notice.”

“The faster Jeremy talks,” Miles said, “the more you should pay absolutely no attention to what he’s saying and start looking at what’s going on around you. But most people don’t get that.”

Aaron shook his head, then turned to look at Connor. “So, you’re Monroe’s kid, huh? Yeah,” he said at Connor’s confused look. “I know. She,” he nodded towards the ceiling, “doesn’t.”

“Got it. Charlie told me yesterday there was another member of the family named Aaron who used to live here. She didn’t get into how she knew you thought.”

“Aaron was a friend of my brother's, Ben,” Miles said, glancing over at the stairs where Jeremy and Cynthia were coming back down. “He came with Charlie to help her find me after Ben died.”

“I’m glad it’s not just my imagination,” Jeremy was saying as he and Cynthia walked back into the kitchen.

“Not totally,” Cynthia reassured him. “They’re not bad but the thread is starting to snap in a few places. Looks like pretty good felted wool – it will last forever if its cared for right – but the threat is probably cotton and it goes bad eventually. I’ll talk to Betsey-Ann and see if her machine is big enough to handle the weight of the fabric. If not, she may even be able to sew it by hand, just to reinforce it.”

“That would be great, thanks. She’d let me pay her, wouldn’t she?”

“She’ll try to insist not but she could use it. Her back is bad enough that she makes most of her income sewing.”

They finished lunch, Cynthia enlisting Jeremy to help her try to plan some kind of community dance for the town and Charlie even volunteered to shoot a deer to roast for it if they couldn’t convince one of the local farmers to donate a pig. 

Connor – not surprisingly – had been a video-game fan before the blackout and he and Aaron had what Charlie thought was a pointless debate on their favorite games with Connor liking something called Final Fantasy and Aaron advocating for World of Warcraft. Miles reluctantly admitted that he had been a Call of Duty player on occasion but refused to let them draw him into the argument of which game had better features.

“Mom wouldn’t let me play Call of Duty,” Connor said, grabbing a chunk of carrot that Monroe was slicing to go with a venison roast he was making for dinner. “She told me I had to be at least thirteen and I was only eleven when the blackout happened.”

“And the violence went from on-screen to global,” Aaron grumbled. “I can’t say I blame her parenting style. Just that it’s too bad everything went to hell like it did.” 

“It was too bad,” Bass said, his face a little bleak. “Aaron, Cynthia, you guys are staying for dinner, aren’t you?”

Cynthia looked started. “Oh, I didn’t realize how late it was. We should probably go. I mean, you already fed us lunch and –”

Bass grinned at her. “Don’t be silly, you two are family. Besides, I need someone to praise my creativity with venison. These peopel forget to be grateful for having a chef of such mediocre talent in house.”

They ate dinner as soon as Carissa got back and Gene and Rachel arrived just as they were finishing. “Go ahead and put everything away,” Rachel said she came into the kitchen. “I’m just going to run and get a quick bath. Annette’s mother and sister were there and they fed us dinner. She actually had the baby about two hours ago but she’s had trouble before and Dad wanted to make sure everything was going okay.”

“Boy or girl?” Cynthia asked.

“Girl. Isabelle Marie. She’s a little smaller than Dad likes but she’s almost six pounds and she didn’t need oxygen.”

Bass, Charlie noticed, had turned his back to everyone and was clanking dishes with unnecessary volume. She walked over to take his hand and he squeezed it tightly but still kept his face turned away.

Jeremy and Cynthia revisited the dance idea after Gene and Rachel got back from cleaning up and Carissa promised to talk to Director Truman about having some of the Patriots help set up. It was late when they left, but the night was beautiful, almost warm, and Charlie grabbed Bass’ arm before he could go back inside and he wrapped it around her.

“Stars are pretty tonight.” It was a pointless thing to say because the stars were beautiful every night but he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine. I just. . .hearing about how worried Gene was about that woman giving birth. Sometimes I wonder if. . .well, is it worth it? If anything happened to you. . . .”

“First, plenty of people have babies with no trouble. Second, if something’s going to happen to me, it’s more likely to happen long before I can even get pregnant.”

“Okay, I see your point there. But I still am allowed to worry.” 

He relaxed against her and they set together for probably half an hour, watching the stars and Charlie was just starting to feel a little cold and was about to suggest going in when Bass leaned in closer, nibbling at her collarbone. “So why don’t we go upstairs and practice me not worrying about you getting pregnant.” She laughed softly but was glad the haunted look was fading from his eyes.

They undressed each other and he pulled her on top of him, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He entered her slowly and sat up to kiss her when she heard what sounded like the rattle of small rocks on the window and Bass broke the kiss to look around. “What the hell,” he muttered, sliding away from her and grabbing his sword from the belt hung on the chair as another wave of gravel hit the glass again.

Charlie grabbed a blanket to cover herself as she pulled open the window. “Aaron?” she called as she saw him in the bushes near the window and he gasped with relief.

“Charlie?” His voice was a harsh whisper. “Help.”

“Be right down,” she hissed back, a coil of dread washing though her at the fact she was pretty sure he was alone and he looked as scared as she’d ever seen him.

Bass had finished dressing – a shirt and pants and sword belt with a pistol as well and she pulled on her sweats and t-shirt and grabbed her crossbow. “Get Miles,” she hissed as she ran towards the stairs as quietly as she could. If they needed search parties to find Cynthia, they’d want to get the Patriots involved but until she knew what had happened, she was hoping Jeremy could keep Carissa occupied or asleep.

Aaron was already at the door when she opened it and she sighed in relief when she saw Cynthia seated against the side of the house, arms wrapped around herself as if she was cold and rocking gently.

Aaron turned to Charlie, face miserable. “We were just walking around, looking at the stars. We weren’t doing anything wrong. But they said we shouldn’t be out because there were still Andovers in the area. Then they tried to hurt her. I swear I didn’t mean to do it.” She almost asked what happened but realized they needed to get off the porch, out of the open and as Miles, Rachel and Bass came running silently out the door, all armed, she gestured them back.

“We’re not going to need weapons,” she whispered. “Come on, let’s them down to the barn. We can’t take them inside.”

Rachel had moved to take one of Cynthia’s arms and Charlie took the other. The teacher wasn’t really limp but she was clearly in shock. “What happened?”Rachel whispered. “Cynthia? Are you okay? Charlie, we need to get Dad.”

Charlie reached around Cynthia to grab Rachel’s wrist. “No, not yet.”

“She’s in shock,” Rachel said. “She could be injured.”

“I don’t think so. But I think she just saw Aaron set someone in fire.”

Aaron nodded, not raising his head from where he was staring at the ground and Miles swore in a whisper, sheathing his sword. “Patriots?” Aaron nodded again. “Rachel, Charlie’s right. We can’t risk waking up Carissa if we don’t have to. Get her into the barn and see if you can help her.”

B. . .James, Aaron, you’re coming with me. Rachel, do what you can to help Cynthia. If we need your dad, it’s got to wait until after we hide the bodies. Charlie. . .” Miles hesitated, then leaned close to her. “It’s not that I couldn’t use you. But if anyone can make Cynthia understand how important this is, it’s you. Use your best judgment about how much to tell her. . .but try to keep it minimal until we know how she’s going to react.”

Charlie nodded and Miles and Bass both headed off, Aaron trailing reluctantly after them.

Charlie and Rachel led Cynthia into the bath shed, sitting her on the bench they usually used to hold spare towels and the teacher blinked at them, as if she were just waking up while Rachel got a lantern lit.

“Charlie?” Cynthia asked, her voice surprisingly strong.

“Yeah, I’m right here. Do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head and Charlie was just beginning to wonder if they could tell her she had tripped and hit her head when Cynthia said, “There were four of them and they told us that we shouldn’t be out because there were still Andovers around and then one of them pulled a knife and tried to slit my throat. It hurt so bad.” Charlie pulled back Cynthia’s shirt and she could see a fine white line across the carotid arteries but it looked like an old scar, fully healed. “Aaron was yelling and all the sudden everyone was on fire.” Charlie gestured Rachel over to look at the marks. If it was an old scar, it was one Charlie had never seen before and she wondered how anyone could have survived something like it before she realized there was blood on her own hands that had come off Cynthia’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing a lot on this lately. . .but I'm much later in the work and the how to get everyone from where we left them at the end of chapter 22 to where they need to go had me totally perplexed. So MDRevolutionFan is going to get the requested dancing scene. Which turns out to be a later chapter because we needed some action first that's going to get Horne coming to town (I don't know for sure that he's going to make it into the story but I needed him at least headed towards Willoughby). And I have Cynthia disagreeing with Charlie later when Charlie is worried about someone killing Cynthia which means she needed a brush with death. So between the two alternatives of having Charlie/Miles/Bass get into another fight, and having Aaron light someone else on fire, I decided to go with the fire option this time so that Cynthia can start dealing with her own resurrection.
> 
> So the dancing will have to wait. But at least writing towards it gets me something that's not five chapters ahead with no bridge between them.


	24. Chapter 24

Cynthia started crying softy when Charlie and Rachel pulled her shirt off her, looking for any wound that could have caused the blood but there was nothing, just the tiny white scar and a pale bra absolutely drenched with blood.

“Could this have come from a Patriot?” Charlie hissed and Rachel shook her head.

“From what Miles described I doubt they’d have bled. No, they tried to kill her. “

Charlie rinsed the blood out of Cynthia’s shirt and bra and they got the teacher cleaned up as best they could and wrapped in an old towel while she continued to rock herself.

“She’s still in shock,” Rachel said. “I wish I could get Dad to look at her but –”

“Maybe we can after Miles gets back.” 

Rachel shook her head. “We’re still going to have a missing Patriot patrol. We absolutely can’t have Carissa knowing any of us were up. Sometimes I wonder what the hell Jeremy was thinking.”

Privately Charlie agreed with her but it wouldn’t hurt that Doctor Porter’s household would have a very believable ally if she hadn’t heard them all going downstairs.

“We need to keep her warm.” Rachel instructed and Charlie got the bench positioned next to the water-boiler and added a few more logs to the fire that had been banked down for the night. Cynthia’s cries were starting to get louder and Charlie sat down next to her, pulling her in close.

“Cynthia, it’s okay, you’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

She was pleased that Cynthia looked up at her and her eyes were clearer but she started to worry again when the other woman gasped out. “What did he do? What did he do? He said it was an accident but how. . .did he kill Carl too? Charlie, am I dreaming?”

Charlie was surprised when Rachel went to her knees in front of them and started rubbing Cynthia’s palms. “Cynthia, you need to listen to me.” Rachel’s voice was calm but there was an urgency to it. “Remember when you prayed for Aaron to not be dead and then he wasn’t dead anymore?” Cynthia nodded, the tears still running down her face but she had stopped rocking herself. “Aaron told you about the nanites and how they healed him. Well, tonight they healed you. We don’t know how or why but they are doing things for Aaron that he doesn’t ask them to and he doesn’t understand. And yes, he was there when Carl died.”

Cynthia’s breathing started to get shallow and Charlie was worried she was starting to hyperventilate. “He. . .killed. . .Carl. Why. . .didn’t. . .he…tell…me. How. . .could….he do –“

“He didn’t do anything,” Rachel said firmly. “The nanites did it. He never told you about Carl because he didn’t know what he had done until the same thing happened to Miles. The Patriots tried to kill him and Aaron saved his life. Just like he saved yours., Cynthia. They’d have killed you.”

“Why?” she cried but the tone sounded more normal and Charlie felt the trembles began to lessen.

“Because they’re not what they’re pretending to be. The Patriots were the ones that bombed Atlanta and Philadelphia and blamed it on Monroe and Foster. They hired Titus Andover to come to Willoughby so the town would accept them and Texas would give them a treaty. But fake wars still need real victims and tonight they were going to kill you and Aaron and if it weren’t for the nanites they’d have done it.”

Cynthia started to stagger to her feet and Rachel caught and steadied her as she nearly fell. “They can’t do that. We have to tell people. Warn them about. . . .” she looked like she was about to pass out as Rachel helped her back onto the bench and Charlie wrapped an arm back around her.

“No, Cynthia,” Charlie said. “You can’t say anything to anyone. First of all, what do you think they’d do to Aaron if they knew what he could do; even if he still doesn’t know how or why. And second, all the proof we have is just us. What we saw in the Tower. People would think we were crazy or it was another plot by Miles Matheson or something. They don’t want to believe what they can’t understand and this is too hard for most people to understand right now.”

“But it’s not right.”

“No,” Rachel agreed. “It’s not right. But you knew a little about what happened in the Tower and why it brought Aaron back to life and it was hard but you were able to keep it a secret. We need you to keep this a secret too.”

Charlie felt Cynthia tense against her and she exchanged a panicked glance with Rachel as Cynthia snapped. “No. We have to tell people. We can’t let them get away with this.”

“We’re not letting them get away with this,” Rachel assured her, voice soothing. “But we can’t tell people yet. We’re coming up with a plan to try to make think right but we can’t rush it or else more people with get killed. Starting with you and Aaron. Then they’d kill Miles and I; Charlie and my father. Jeremy and Connor and James, just because they were here. Do you understand?”

Cynthia nodded slowly before she turned to bury her face in Charlie’s shoulder and Charlie patted her on the back while she sobbed but it sounded like normal crying – someone who had been hurt and scared and when she looked up her eyes were narrowed.

“Is that why sometimes it seems like everyone stops talking or changes a subject when I come into a room? Or why Aaron sometimes insists we have to leave?”

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted. “We never wanted to lie to you. But we also were trying to protect you. And honestly, we weren’t entirely sure we could trust you. What side you’d be on. Granted, we also thought the Patriots were done dragging in bodies of townspeople that happened to be out late. Hasn’t happened in a couple of months that we know of. Might be they’re trying to push to expand again and they needed fresh victims.”

Cynthia’s look was one of profound irritation and more than a little angry. “I wish you would have told me about all of this before now.”

“Could you have handled it? Would you have even believed it?” Charlie asked and Cynthia snorted, which Charlie took to be a good sign.

“Okay, maybe not. But I’m still mad about Aaron not telling me about Carl.”

“Picture this,” Rachel said, her voice trying to be light but failing. “You’ve been living with someone for about four months when you realize the death of her husband – what you thought was a total accident – turn out to be your fault because he attacked you and these microscopic machines that are in the air defended you by setting him on fire. All you thought had happened was that he’d accidently lit a car on fire that he was inside. Only now you know different. Go ahead. I’ll pretend to be you and you pretend to be Aaron and tell me about it.”

Cynthia gaped at her for a moment, then gave a tired laugh as she relaxed into Charlie’s side. “Okay, maybe you’re right. So what do we do now?”

“Right now?” Charlie said. “We wait for Miles to come back. They’re going to get rid of the bodies so maybe the Patriots will just think they’re deserters or else people are going to start asking a lot of questions that we’re not ready for yet. Then we have to get you and Aaron home and get us back here and everyone get to bed without waking up Captain Bailey because she’s our alibi that we had nothing to do with any of this. Or else they march in here and we all get dragged off and stood up against a wall and shot to keep their dirty little secret. ”

“Ken?” Cynthia asked and Charlie sighed. 

“You figured out – that day we talked – that Ken wasn’t killed by Andovers.”

Cynthia nodded and Rachel leaned in close to her. “He’s buried in his own basement. In the grave he dug for me. I wasn’t careful – told him what I thought the Patriots were doing. And it turns out he’d been working for them too. I’d known him since we were teenagers and he was going to kill me.”

Cynthia looked a little sick and Charlie took a deep breath. “Grandpa was working for them too. We think they brought the cholera plague that killed my grandmother because they were trying to weaken the town. Maybe just because it was where they wanted their foothold out west but we think it went deeper than that. They were looking for my mother and it was their way to get my grandfather under their control. He did it to get medicine for the town because at first it wasn’t much. But by the time he realized how bad they were he also knew what they’d do.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Cynthia asked and Rachel nodded.

“Yes. A lot more. But can you trust us for right now? That we’re doing what we can to stop it.”

Cynthia nodded and her hand moved back to her neck. “It hurt so bad. I thought I was going to die.”

“What did you feel?” Charlie asked and Cynthia shook her head.

“Nothing. There was just this burst of white light and I heard screaming and all the sudden I couldn’t hear anything and then there was a green glow and then everything went dark and when I woke up Aaron was crying that he was sorry and I could smell burning and I looked down and . . .this. . .I guess it had been the man who’d tried to cut me.” She looked at the towel and then back at Charlie.

“If he tried to cut me, why was their blood on my shirt?”

“He didn’t try to cut you.” Rachel said and Cynthia sighed.

“I was afraid of that. So that wasn’t his blood on my shirt?” Rachel shook her head. “I. . .wondered why it had hurt so bad.” She started to cry again. “If they healed me, am I going to set people on fire too?”

“No, you won’t.” Charlie said but Rachel shrugged.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think so, but we don’t understand why this is happening so we can’t say for sure what will happen. And if someone is trying to hurt someone you love, is that such a bad thing?”

“Of course it is,” Cynthia gasped. “Would you want Miles to go around burning people to death?”

“Miles,” Charlie said, “just shoots them. It may be a little less messy, but they end up dead just the same.”

“Okay, maybe Miles was a bad example. But what about James. Wait, does James know about any of this?”

“I came back to Willoughby because I found the Patriots had put out a bounty on my Mom. James saved my life and came back with me. When we found out what was going on we told him and gave him the option to leave. He decided to stay. He lost friends in Philadelphia.” Which was almost what happened, if one decided not to mention he also happened to be Sebastian Monroe and had been the one to insist she take him to Miles in the first place. But Cynthia had, Charlie judged, about all the truth she could handle for one evening.

“What about Connor and Jeremy?”

“Jeremy knows pretty much everything. Connor knows about the Patriots. He knows what caused the Blackout and why we don’t know if we can ever fix it but he doesn’t know about the nanites protecting Aaron.“

“Carissa?”

“Is really a Patriots Intelligence Captain. We hope to tell her the truth one day but we’re not there yet. We don’t thinks she’s a bad person. . .just that who she works for is not who she thinks they are.”

“How do you not have ulcers?” Cynthia asked and Charlie laughed.

“No idea.” She tightened her arm around Cynthia. “Do you see why – that day – I wouldn’t really tell you any more?” Cynthia nodded. “I meant it when I said you were part of the family now. Because of Aaron. Which means there isn’t anything we won’t do to protect you both. But we have to be careful.”

Cynthia nodded slowly. “Okay. But it’s still scary.”

“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “It is. It scares us too.”

 

Cynthia fell asleep, leaning against Charlie but she woke up again as the door of the bath shed opened and Miles, Bass and Aaron came in. Cynthia started to cry again when she saw Aaron but she went over and put her arms around him and Miles pulled off his shirt and handed it over. “Here, put this on before that towel comes loose.”

Cynthia looked surprised, like she had forgotten the towel and pressed herself closer to Aaron and Mile sand Bass turned their backs while she slid the t-shirt over her head. It was loose on her and the neckline didn’t cover the thin line of scar on her neck.

“What did you do with the bodies?” Rachel asked.

“There’s a damn up on the river by the old mill so the pool is pretty deep. We got them weighted down and left them there. She okay?”

“Not really,” Rachel said. “But she will be. Aaron didn’t just set them on fire. He must have healed her too. Her shirt was totally soaked with blood. They really did cut her throat.”

Aaron went white and he pulled Cynthia closer. “I. . .wondered if I had been dreaming that part.”

Cynthia shook her head as she leaned against him. “No. It hurt. Then it didn’t anymore and I could breathe again.”

“Damn?” Bass muttered and Aaron glared at him. “The Patriots would kill to get their hands on him. Lots of people would kill to get their hands on him.”

“Which is why?” Miles said. “We’re going to make sure no one does. Aaron, James and I are going to get you home without anyone seeing you. Charlie, can you stay with Rachel. I don’t think we’ll have any other trouble tonight but I’d rather she not be here by herself and I want us to all go back in the house together. That way if we do wake up Carissa we can say something about you not feeling well and getting Rachel and James and I just came along to help.” When she nodded he pulled her into a quick hug. “Thanks, kid. I know you hate getting left behind.”

“I do. But will you let me do you a favor?” At his speculative look she took the towel Cynthia handed back. “Let me loan you my shirt. It will fit and people will ask a lot of questions if they see you like that.”

He snorted but nodded. “They’ll ask a lot of questions no matter what. But, yeah, thanks, I’d actually appreciate that.”

Rachel wrung out Cynthia’s shirt, wrapped her bra in it and handed it over to Aaron. “Here. Take this with you. Carissa saw her wearing the shirt tonight and I don’t want to deal with questions if she sees it here tomorrow.”

Charlie gave Cynthia and Aaron both hugs before she turned away from them and stripped off her shirt, tossing it over to Miles and wrapping the towel around herself. “You guys be careful out there. No guarantee you’ll were alone.”

“We will,” Bass promised and smiled at her as Miles led Aaron and Cynthia out of the bath shed.

Rachel got the fire banked back down and she and Charlie reset the bench to where it had been. They both leaned back with their heads against the wall and Rachel exhaled as if she had been holding in a sigh for a long time.

“What a mess.”

“Yup,” Charlie agreed. “At least she finally knows something. I know it’s been bugging her.”

“It only works if she can be patient enough not to get herself killed with this new information. Knowledge may be power but it’s also dangerous. Sometimes we have to keep things from people we love to keep them safe.”

“But it can sometimes drive them crazy when they know something is going on and you refuse to tell them,” Charlie countered, pretty sure neither of them were talking about Cynthia any longer.

Rachel reached over to pat her on the knee. “If it means anything, I gave up trying to hide things from you a while ago.”

“Yeah, that actually means a lot.”

“So since Bass didn’t seem the least surprised to see me, I take it you know I moved into Miles’ room.”

“Well, the other option was that you had moved Connor into your room with you and I didn’t think you’d pick up Monroe’s kid that fast.”

Rachel chuckled, looking more relaxed than Charlie had ever seen her. “He thought that was what I was doing when I started to take him upstairs. I almost felt bad that he seemed to completely unsure how to react that I almost told him but the temptation to scare the crap out of him was too good to pass up.”

“He did say he thought you were kind of hot.”

Rachel snorted. “Please, he almost passed out when I opened the door to my room.”

Charlie laughed with her. “I would have loved to have seen his face.”

“It was pretty funny. Though to his credit he did look a little disappointed when I walked out.” She sighed. “So you sure you’re okay. With Miles and I?”

Charlie nodded. “Probably about as okay as you are about Bass and I. But it’s not like I didn’t know if it was coming. I even asked Miles once if he wanted my kids to call him Uncle Miles or Grandpa. Speaking of priceless faces.”

Rachel lifted her head off the wall. “Really? When was this?”

“Not long before we went to Mexico. We were talking about what we wanted to do if we lived though this whole thing. I think Bass and I should get a farm but he wants to run a hotel.”

“Miles?” Rachel sounded surprised. “Miles wants to run a hotel?”

“That’s what he was doing when we found him in Chicago. Running a bar and hotel. He said that way he gets to observe people without actually having to be close to them.”

Rachel’s look went thoughtful. “That. . .I could see that. It might even be kind of fun. So this farm? Would it be far away?”

Charlie shook her head and Rachel’s arm went around her shoulder. “Good.”

Neither of them moved away, relaxing in the warmth of the room until they heard footsteps outside. Charlie recognized them and she grabbed her crossbow only because she wanted to take it back into the house with her. Rachel sat up slowly, wiping at her eyes. “Is it time to go?” Rachel asked and Charlie nodded as Miles slid the door open and tossed Charlie her shirt. He was wearing in the one he had loaned to Cynthia and he nodded at her look.

“Yeah, they’re home. Didn’t see anyone on the way back here either.”

They all snuck into the house quietly and Miles and Rachel took seats at the kitchen table, gesturing for Charlie and Bass to head back up the stairs. It was a smart plan since it would be easy to believe any noise in the hall would be from someone coming back from a trip to the outhouse.

Charlie slipped out of her clothes and climbed under the covers while Bass unbuckled his sword belt and took a very long time to hang it on the chair so nothing clanked.

It was only because Charlie was straining to listen for it that she heard the door to Miles’ room open and close nearly soundlessly. She relaxed back into the mattress as Monroe stretched out beside her. He gave her a sleepy smile. “We were in the middle of something, weren’t we?”

She stretched, yawned and nodded, nestling into his side. “Yeah, we were. But would you be terribly upset if we waited till morning? I’m really tired.”

He groaned and she thought at first it was protest but he whispered. “I love it when you talk dirty like that. Say it again?”

“What?”

“Morning.” He pulled her close to him, nuzzling at her neck. “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

 

Charlie woke at dawn, stifling both a groan and a desire to go back to sleep and wiggled her way out of the Bass-cuddle. His ability to wrap an arm around her torso where it pressed against her bladder was sometimes nearly uncanny but he flipped onto his stomach, taking the pillow she shoved at him and curing around it without waking up. She smiled, watching him bury his face against it like it was her hair – though she sometimes worried he might accidently suffocate himself one day. But he pulled away from it finally, blinking around and locating her. One arm reached towards her and he twitched it at her.”

“Muscle spasms?” she asked and he rolled over, barely awake if she was correct and jerked his arm again. “Bad muscle spasm?”

“Come here,” he whispered and she took a step further away from the bed. He had a long arm reach. She’d learned that the hard way. And his impulse control, when he was just waking up, wasn’t always quite functioning.

“Bass, I need to go downstairs,” she whispered.

“Com’ere. Just for momen’.” He was slurring badly, but he lifted his head just enough for her to see his eyes were partially open and she leaned forward as he sat up enough to kiss her on the nose. “There,” he muttered. “Much better. Will you come back to bed soon?”

“In a bit.”

“Want me to get up and make you breakfast?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Not really. Because then everyone else would want it too and three mornings in a row is a dangerous precedent. But I’d do it for you.”

“I’m not even really hungry, honestly. But I could bring you up toast or an egg or something if you want.

“You complain when I eat in bed. Say I get crumbs everywhere.”

She smiled at the way he was still slurring a little. “That’s because you usually do. But I could get the broom too and then it wouldn’t be a problem.”

He shrugged. “Not really hungry either. But thanks for asking.” He rolled over and she was pretty sure he went back to sleep.

She was back in the house long enough to get the fire going and the tea kettle filled when she heard a firm knock on the front door and she walked through the house to see Truman standing at the door, flanked by four armed Patriots. If they’d have been coming to arrest them they’d have brought more men so she opened the door and he nodded at her. “Charlie. Can you go wake up Captain Bailey?”

“Sure. Anything wrong?” Dawn visits usually didn’t mean something was going right and he looked grim.

He grunted rather than respond but she gestured him to come in and led him into the parlor where he settled in the couch. It might have just been the missing patrol. . .but Charlie was pretty sure there was something more and she wondered if they’d found the bodies after all.

She ran up the stairs and pounded on Jeremy’s door. She heard the sounds of bodies rolling over in a bed and footsteps before Jeremy cracked the door. He was clutching a blanket to his waist and Charlie could see past him to Carissa sprawled across the bed, face down in the pillows, her back bare. “Does no one wear pajamas in this house?” Charlie snapped and Jeremy focused on her, wiping a hand to his face.

“What’s wrong?” He grumbled, clearly still asleep.

“Truman’s here and he needs Carissa. Now.”

“Shit,” Carissa moaned, starting to sit up then pulling the blanket to her. “What the hell? What time is it?”

“Early?” Charlie told her. “Really early. And he looks kind of pissed.”

He looked kind of freaked, if she wanted to be honest. But that was because Charlie was pretty sure what this was about, even if she didn’t know how or why and she certainly wasn’t going to admit anything to the Patriot Captain.

“Damn it,” Carissa moaned, standing up and throwing the blanket off without seeming to care that Charlie was still standing in the door. She stumbled around the room, grabbing a pair of pants and a white button down shirt and was starting towards the door when Charlie smiled.

“You do know you’re wearing Jeremy’s shirt, don’t you?” Charlie asked. “Because if you do, that’s okay but if you didn’t want to flaunt to your boss who you’re sleeping with, you may want to change.”

Jeremy turned and squinted and Carissa looked down. “Fuck.” She started searching around in the dresser drawer and came up with a pale blue sweater. She pulled off Jeremy’s shirt and threw it at him. He caught it just as part of it hit him in the face and he grinned at her as she pulled on the sweater. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“You want me to come down with you?” Jeremy asked and Carissa shook her head. “Go ahead and get dressed but I need to find out what’s up first. You’re still just a consultant.” She smiled slightly. “We can always change that, you know?”

“Nah, still a bit off on military service.”

“I left him in the parlor?” Charlie commented and Carissa nodded. 

“Thanks.”

As she headed down the stairs, Jeremy looked at her. “Know what this is about?” he whispered.

“I think so,” she whispered back. “Fill you in later.”

“Think we can get away with listening at the door?”

She shook her head. “Probably not. But this house has vents. We might be able to use one. “ She did a quick mental map of the house and almost groaned but she grabbed his arm and dragged him across the hallway to Miles and Rachel’s room.

Jeremy balked at the door. “You do know what we could be walking in on, don’t you?” he hissed and she grabbed the handle and twisted. She might need to wash her eyes afterwards, but some things were more important than sensibilities and Jeremy was still wearing nothing more than the blanket anyway.

Miles sat up as soon as she opened the door and part of her was relieved he appeared to have been asleep. He started to lunge towards his sword belt hung on the bedframe but he froze when he saw her, face creasing in confusion as she held a finger to her lips and she and Jeremy went to their knees in front of the vent. It was closed and Jeremy winced as he pulled it open but it didn’t make any noise and they bent their heads together.

Miles kept the blanket over Rachel as her mother started to sit up, looking at them questioningly but Rachel didn’t try to talk. She grabbed one of the sheets and twisted it around herself as she rose from the bed – Miles doing the same thing with the blanket and they both shuffled over.

To be sitting with three people who –other than bedding – were otherwise naked, listening at a vent was absolutely ridiculous, Charlie decided. But there was also something funny about it and she bent her head closer and was rewarded by the sound of what was probably the parlor door closing.

“What’s going on,” Carissa asked, sounding tired. The two rooms were nearly directly aligned and the voices were a little hollow but clear.

“We’ve had a patrol go missing.” Truman announced, sounding worried and Charlie breathed a silent sigh of relief that it didn’t sound like they’d found the bodies.

Jeremy turned and raised his eyes at Miles, looking impressed.

“How many men?” Carissa asked and Charlie heard a crackle of paper.

“Five.” Miles eyes widened and he pressed a fist to his mouth, his lips twisting in a silent cry of rage. “Well, four are missing. We found the fifth one. The body was burned. No sign of the other four.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Miles mouthed and Jeremy turned to glare at him, shaking his head.

“Ever think they tried to desert and the fifth man wouldn’t go along with it?” Carissa asked and Charlie felt hopeful for a moment.

“Not this team. They were on special assignment.” She heard another crackle of paper but when Carissa spoke again her tone was annoyed.

“Why don’t I know these names? All patrols are supposed to report to me for an intel debrief.”

“They’re new. Just arrived yesterday.” Truman’s voice was suddenly placating.

“If they were new why were they on patrol the first night here. And what were their special orders?”

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Truman’s voice sounded harsh and Jeremy pumped his fist in the air, a grin splitting his face and mouthing “Yes” to Miles.

“It does matter. I have my orders on getting us integrated with this town and if we have mysterious, uncontrolled patrols that jeopardizes my mission. And my orders come from the highest levels.”

“Get down off your high horse, Captain. So do mine. Our missions here are not mutually exclusive and I have every interest in integrating this town as you do. But there are also operations that are above your clearance level. So I need you to drop it. Right now. But I do need you to come out with us to where we found the body. It. . .well, we’re not sure what did it.”

“You said burned. That pretty much means fire.” Carissa sounded sarcastic and Charlie smiled.

“It looks like he was burned from the inside out. I’d have thought maybe a lightning strike but no one we’ve talked to remembers a lightning storm last night. And that still doesn’t answer the four missing men. It also makes us question those two men that went missing three months ago. That’s a lot of deserters for one area. And all of them had gone through loyalty training.” He sounded a little snide.

“I assure you, training or none, my loyalty is above questioning.”

When he spoke again Truman sounded soothing. “Of course it is. Which is why I’m here at all. I need your assessment of this situation. I also need to know if you think anyone in Willoughby is capable of abducting and murdering our people.”

Charlie heard Carissa snort. “Other than Miles Matheson? Probably not. But he was here last night.”

“Can you vouch for that?”

“One hundred percent, no. I don’t sleep in his room. But we all went to bed about eleven and I didn’t hear anything that would indicate he got up again. Granted, I was asleep, but I still don’t think so. He. . .I still question his ultimate loyalty and wouldn’t offer him a commission but I think he’s smart enough to realize cooperation is the best option and he’s worried about his family.”

“He still sleeping with Baker?”

Carissa snorted. “I’m pretty sure they were never lovers. At least not recently. I don’t know what went on in their past. No, Matheson is sleeping with his sister-in-law as of a few days ago. And they definitely have a past. I. . .think he’s really Charlie’s father. Not sure if she knows about it. But considering their interactions, I think she at least knows it’s a probability.”

“So if Baker and Matheson weren’t lovers, what the hell was with that scene in my office?”

“I. . .think it was because we were paranoid about a possible counter-strike from the Monroe Republic and getting two high ranking Monroe Militia officers together was something we wouldn’t have allowed at the time. But oddly enough they seem to be good friends for all they were on opposite sides of the Republic/Georgia war.”

“Kingston? You were convinced for a while he was really Monroe.”

“A pet theory that would have accounted for a lot. But no. I’ve let that one go. I wondered if he and Charlie’s relationship was faked but it’s not. And I don’t see Sebastian Monroe cooking and doing dishes and James really does all that. I had no intel that would ever suggest Monroe was domestic but other than them saying he makes really lousy bread, he obviously knows how to cook. And it’s more than just one or two things. I don’t even think there is anyone here who’d be good enough to teach him anyway.”

“What about this son of Miles’ who just happened to show up? Any chance he’s behind this disappearance? Could he be some kind of rebel contact traveling through?”

Charlie could hear Carissa yawn and footsteps as if she was pacing. “It’s a possibility. But again, unlikely. He’s too emotional. And I don’t think that’s an act. From what I can put together they practically abducted him from a drug cartel in Mexico and he’s still dealing with just learning his mother has been dead for over a year. I don’t think that’s fake. No, if there’s anyone interfering around here I don’t think it’s coming out of this house. Besides, I think Matheson is too smart to shit where he lives. If he was killing patrols they wouldn’t be here in Willoughby. So, shall we go look at that body?”

“Think you might need to put on shoes?”

Charlie heard Carissa swear and Jeremy pushed himself to his feet. The blanket came loose and she got a good view at his butt before she could turn her head. He grabbed the blanket, wrapped it around his arm as if he was worried about the flapping noise and darted back across the hall, shutting the door almost soundlessly behind him. Rachel shook her head and Miles grimaced. “How the hell did we miss one? Aaron said there were only four,” he breathed. Charlie shrugged but they all froze by the vent as Carissa’s footsteps came up the stairs and into Jeremy’s room. They heard quiet murmurs from both of them before Carissa, obviously wearing shoes, walked back downstairs and the whole group departed. Miles grabbed a shirt and pants and Charlie turned away while he got dressed.

“Grab your crossbow, Charlie. I need to see how far away that body was from the others and us hunting is the best cover I can come up with. Rachel, tell Jeremy about last night, please. Shit, I’d take Bass too but I don’t want too many of us out there.” He glared at Charlie. “If you hadn’t been so efficient with that stupid horse we’d be better able to justify needing the meat but all they have to do is check to see how much we’ve got stored in the cold room to realize that’s a lie.”

“I told Cynthia I’d get a deer for that dance she wanted to do.”

Miles groaned. “Oh shit. She’s going to have to go ahead and plan that too because she and Carissa were talking about all kinds of stupid details and if she gives up on it she’ll have to have a good reason. And she can’t exactly use ‘traumatized by having my throat slit by Patriot goon’ as an excuse.”

Charlie ran back to grab her boots and Bass was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, a pistol in one hand, his sword in the other and a shotgun across the pillow. “Did I hear people downstairs?”

“Yeah, they’re gone now. Mom will fill you in. Miles and I need to go.”

“Do you want me?”

“Not this time.” She had one boot buckled and snuck a quick look at him. “You know what I mean.”

He grinned and tossed her the pistol. “Just in case. I’d give you the shotgun too but it’s harder to hide.”

“Thanks.” She went to tuck the pistol into her waistband. It was a glock semi-automatic and she frowned at it. “Did this by chance come from one of the guys last night?”

“No. Their weapons were too burned so we used them to help weight the bodies. I did get some ammo off one that hadn’t cooked off. About fifty rifle rounds.”

She kissed him on the top of the head as she passed the bed to grab her jacket and crossbow.

Miles was waiting in the hall for her and they headed towards the stairs but Jeremy opened his door. “Care to enlighten me about what obviously went on last night?”

“No time. Got to do some recon. Rachel and Bass will tell you. Bass needs to know about what we just heard too. What are you smiling about?”

Jeremy was grinning broadly. “Oh, just that I finally have my proof that Truman and Bailey aren’t on the same page. I kind of had that hunch. But I’ve been wrong before. I am now willing bet money she doesn’t know about the Andovers In fact, I might even go one better and stake a kidney.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke? Miles snapped. “Stake a kidney? We’re not making pies here?” Jeremy chuckled.

“I actually hadn’t even thought of that. Good catch.”

“Besides, what would anyone want with your kidneys. They’re probably as rotten as my own have to be. You get so weird sometimes.”

“And you love me for it.”

Miles shook his head. “Come on, Charlie. We need to get going. I doubt that body is too far from where we found the others. But no telling. Don’t want them to get too far ahead.” He held up a pair of field glasses. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated a little about having Cynthia be as accepting as she is. . .but we did get to see on the show she has a surprising amount of resilience to her and I'm hoping it works here. I also realized that having one body that they missed (there's actually a good explanation for why in the next chapter) gets a few more things rolling. A missing patrol could create some discussion but probably wouldn't prompt a personal morning visit by Truman and a chance to use Gene's vent-trick. It's not going to be how Carissa finds out about Bass (they have something much more deliberate in mind) but MDRevolutionFan reminded me about it and I decided to use it another way. It also let me give everyone some affirmation that Carissa isn't fully onboard with the methods the Patios are using and starts to put a few small cracks in her faith they can exploit later. I liked that I got to use Jeremy a little more this chapter. He was in danger of taking over too much since about Chapter 11 so I had been pretty much ignoring him for the last few chapters. I'm hoping I'm getting a better balance at writing him. I also wanted a Connor-free chapter because his emotional issues have been taking a lot of page-space lately and while that's not necessarily a bad thing I also wanted to get some purely political intrigue going on here. I don't have the next chapter written but I'm hoping we get to have a lot of Charlie/Miles time. Something we haven't gotten on the show lately, even if I did really like the latest episode "Fear and Loathing." I got to watch it finally where I wasn't multi-tasking with a phone-conference for work where I kept having to turn it down or mute it. I think it was even better the second time. I won't be able to use any of the New Vegas stuff in here but there may be some bits of the standoff between Miles, Rachel, Tom and Jason" that gets worked into their eventual meeting. I particularly liked the bits about in Mexico they just call this a standoff, Tom's comment when Rachel showed up that the whole situation was silly and also his reference to Miles/Bass man-love. Clearly, Tom just doesn't appreciate a good bromance.


	25. Chapter 25

The morning was cool but there was no dew. If it didn’t start raining soon, Charlie wasn’t sure what the farmers were going to do that summer if the rivers and creeks all dried up. But for her purpose, no dew was a blessing because there would be no trail where they had disrupted the grass. She let Miles lead the way at a dog-trot through the open woods she’d had such good luck hunting all fall. Aaron and Cynthia must have been just wandering together, enjoying the stars through the leafless canopy – more or less in the direction of their house but still far away from where they had expected to find people. She bit her lip, thinking of the night she and Bass had gone for a walk, discussing their pasts. That had felt like the perfect evening. While a Patriot patrol finding Bass would have had a different ending – maybe not so different, she decided, even if Bass would have used a sword instead of his mind – the thought of anyone intruding on it just seemed so wrong.

Cynthia had been in such a good mood when she and Aaron had left the first time, trying to organize a dance and pestering everyone to help in the charming way she had that even made things that Charlie would have thought she’d have hated – like a quilting – into a lot of fun.

Miles halted suddenly about two miles from the house and threw up an arm, palm towards her. She was pretty sure it was old habit since she was right behind him but he jerked his head to the right and gestured her to go first. “Not too far from here. Got to find some cover,” he breathed in her ear as she passed him and she took point until she found an evergreen tree that had regular branches strong enough to support them both. He grimaced at her but he followed her up.

They were probably fifteen or twenty feet up when she spotted the Patriot cordon probably about a quarter of a mile northwest of their tree. Truman and Carissa were just entering the cordon and Miles held the field glasses to his eyes for a minute before he passed them over to Charlie.

The area cordoned off was a square about twenty feet long. The terrain was rocky, several boulders resting against each other. It was on western edge of what looked like a small clearing that stretched for about twenty meters long by about forty meters wide. Charlie couldn’t really make out any details of the body but Miles held out his hand and she handed the binoculars back to him. He moved them over to the eastern side of the clearing and pointed at it. “About twenty feet into the tree line was where the other bodies were. Bastards left a rear-guard. That’s new.” He handed the glasses back to Charlie and she scanned the area where he pointed. She was too far away to be sure she was looking in the right place.

“They look like they’re mostly focused where they found the body. Do you want to go check over where the others were.”

He shook his head. “Can’t risk drawing attention to it. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea if there are burn marks in the grass but we did a pretty good job getting the bodies out without leaving a track to the river. I hope.” He sighed deeply . “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need to talk to Aaron.”

They swung their way back down the tree and Miles sighed in what Charlie could only guess was relief when he landed back on the grass. “Didn’t know you hated heights?” she commented and he shrugged.

“I don’t mind heights when I’m going up or when I’m up. I don’t really like coming down. And since that’s inevitable, kind of takes the fun out of the view.”

“What’s wrong with coming down?”

“At normal speed, nothing. But when does anything in my life every obey the laws of normal.”

They were following more-or-less the same track back towards Gene’s and were about half-mile from it when Miles cut over to the road that led into Willoughby. They set their pace a sedate walk – just a pair of hunters who’d had no luck getting game, Charlie supposed was what they were suppose to look like but the road was deserted – although she could see smoke from more than a few chimneys.

“Did you fall out of a tree?” she asked and he grinned.

“Should have known you wouldn’t let that one go. Yes, I did. It was probably less than ten feet and didn’t even break anything. Just knocked the wind out of me.”

“And you’ve not liked coming down ever since?”

He sighed. “No. I was eight. It just convinced me of my own immortality. But,” he hesitated and began to breath slowly, as if he were trying not to let a bad memory get too close. “When I was in the Corps, we were rappelling during a training exercise. We’d been home from Iraq for about three months and it was just suppose to be a fun day of obstacle courses and that sort of thing. I coming down this eighty-foot tower when my hand slipped and I lost a hold of my rope. We had belays that were supposed to take the slack out of the rope if that sort of thing happened but like I said, it was just suppose to be a fun day and he was screwing around and not paying attention and I fell the last thirty feet. The doctors told me if it hadn’t been raining recently and there hadn’t been a lot of mud at the base of the tower I’d probably have been paralyzed. Instead I just broke six ribs and my left leg.”

Charlie winced. “Ouch. Sorry. What happened to the guy who hadn’t been paying attention?”

“They all got yelled at and extra duty for a couple of weeks. But the one on my rope? Well, neither of them ever said anything about it, but a few days later he came to formation and said he’d fallen down the stairs in the barracks. Had bruises everywhere. But. . .Bass wore gloves for a couple of days wherever he went and he kept dropping things like his hands hurt. I never did get to see his knuckles but I was pretty sure what had happened. He was on the rope next to mine. I thought I was screaming when I fell but people told me later that I never made a sound. That what I heard was him. I thought they were crazy and they must have been mistaken but apparently people don’t generally yell their own name when they fall. I may have blacked out for a few seconds – I don’t know for sure – but he was about twelve feet above me when it happened and I swear he was on the ground just a few seconds later."

"When was this?"

"About two years before the Blackout. I was supposed to have six months of light duty to make sure everything healed so the Corps sent me to Parris Island to be an instructor. Not sure how Bass managed to talk his way into a slot there too but when my orders came through, his were there too. And if you ever wondered why I couldn’t pull the trigger. It’s things like that. I. . .I shouldn’t have left him like I did. What was I thinking?”

“Nora told me it was after a bombing?”

“Yeah. We’d gone out for a drink – it was my birthday actually. I was out for a couple of days.”

“Ever consider you might have had a more serious head injury than you thought you did?”

He snorted. “If only it was that easy. We all talk about him being so crazy. Truth was, in my own way, I was just as nuts. I don’t think I went sane again until that day you walked into the bar. All full of family feeling and bad ideas.”

“I never really thought about why you didn’t want to help me that first day.”

“If it had been Georgia or Texas that had Danny I’d probably volunteered to go with you within about ten seconds. I mean, he was my nephew, even if I hadn’t seen him in fifteen years. But Bass? I couldn’t explain that to you, because you’d only seen the monster.”

“I think I started to get it when he saved me in that bar in Pottsboro. I knew I couldn’t be dreaming because if I had been, it would have been you killing them. Like the Militia Soldier who was trying to kill me after I got out of the lookout station after the drone strike. Or in that office in the tower right before Nora died. But even as I was passing out I knew I was going to be okay. Which was totally crazy, because this was Monroe. But I knew I didn’t have to worry.”

“I really couldn’t believe you’d brought him to Willoughby. I wasn’t mad at him – well okay, I was a little bit. I think I was mostly in shock. He was there. You’d brought him. I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact you were. . .with him.”

“I wasn’t with him,” she snapped. “Not till that night you and Mom needed the distraction.”

“That’s not what I meant. Just the idea of you two both being in Texas at the same time, let alone standing side by side, was more than I could comprehend. ” He looked around as if realizing the two of them had stopped walking and were standing by the side of the road. “I must be spending too much time with Jeremy. All this talking about your feelings is starting to rub off. Come on, let’s get going.”

 

Aaron answered the front door after the third knock and he opened if after he fumbled with the chain at the door. “Miles. Charlie.” He sounded emotionless and tired and he actually stepped back when Charlie went to hug him but she glared at him and he eventually hugged her back.

“How are you not scared of me?” he whimpered. “I’m terrified of myself.”

“And you should be.” Miles said. Charlie turned to glare at him but he waved a hand at her. “You took out a five man patrol last night.”

“Four,” Aaron said, sighing deeply. “There were only four of them.”

“No,” Miles told him. “There were five.”

Aaron went dead white and squeaked, deep in his throat, before he pressed his hand to his mouth like he was going to throw up. “But we only moved four bodies.”

“Yeah, well, we missed one. Patriots found him this morning across the clearing.”

“Do they know?” Aaron whispered and Miles shook his head.

“They don’t know anything yet. Aaron, how did you miss one? A flaming pillar it pretty visible, particularly in the dark. Even if there are trees around.”

“You try looking anywhere other than at the throat of the woman you love after it’s been cut open.” Aaron said, his voice expressionless and Miles nodded.

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. When the Andovers put that arrow into Rachel’s shoulder I got a little distracted myself.”

“Great. So I screwed up and doomed everyone. Any other joyous news this morning?” 

Charlie kept Aaron’s arm looped though hers as she moved across the living room and sat them both of the couch. “You’ve not doomed everything,” Charlie said, glaring at Miles. “We did want you to know, in case you heard about it in town. But it sounds like they aren’t tying it to us. Maybe a squad deserted and they killed the only one who wouldn’t go along with them.

”Really?” Aaron asked, sounding almost cheerful but then his face set into the stern frown he used on student that were being disruptive. “I mean, that’s terrible.”

“And,” Miles said. “It had another benefit we weren’t expecting. Carissa didn’t know about they had patrols on special assignment like these guys were. She and Truman had a fight about it at Gene’s this morning.”

“Oh. Goodie.” Aaron sounded absolutely unenthusiastic but he didn’t look nearly as depressed. “So what now?”

“We wait,” Miles said. “Jeremy thinks that with the information on what the Patriots are really doing, Carissa might be willing to work with us. At that point, it’s up to you and Cynthia to decide if you’re coming with us to D.C. or staying here. Though depending on what happens, you may not have a choice.”

Aaron’s face twisted. “I’m not some kind of human nuke, Miles. I don’t know how I’m doing it and I don’t want to know either. Yeah, sure, if I could figure it out and fry every Patriot it would end everything a lot faster. But I can’t. And I won’t. I may be a monster but I’m still not Randall Flynn.”

“I never suggested any of that,” Miles snapped. “Why would you think. . .okay, maybe I wondered a little bit. But I’d never ask you to do that. I’m not Randall either. We’ve got a good plan going and we’re going to stick with for as long as it pans out. What I mean is if they figure out what you can do, we can’t let you stay here. But we’re not talking about using you as a weapon yet.”

Aaron looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry. I’m just a little. . . .paranoid this morning.”

“I totally understand that,” Miles told him. “Which may not be such a bad thing right now. Trust me. When you learn you’re good at. . .good at killing. Sometimes you tell yourself that’s your purpose. And sometimes you do things you shouldn’t. So take it from someone who is good at killing that just because you can doesn’t mean you have to. Even if it is a lot easier when you do. Now this isn’t some rainbows and sunshine, let’s just hug and we’ll all get along speech. There’s plenty of times when violence is appropriate – especially now. But you have to find your own balance. And now that I feel like I’m going to start vomiting kittens. . . .”

Aaron actually laughed and Charlie shook her head at Miles, who glared back at her.

“And if either of you ever tell anyone I got so touchy-feely, I’ll swear you were hallucinating.“

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Aaron assured him and Charlie just smirked.

“How’s Cynthia this morning,” Charlie asked and Aaron sighed.

“She’s still sleeping. I wanted to spend the night in the guest room but she wouldn’t let me. I don’t know how she can stand to be around me. She should be scared.”

Charlie patted his arm. “So she sees what the rest of already knew. You’re a good person, Aaron. Whatever is happening, it doesn’t make you a monster. You protected her and saved her life.”

“Great. You know what was ironic? I still had trouble getting the fire started when we got back here. Took about ten minutes since my hands were shaking so bad I kept dropping the flint. So what do we do this morning?”

“Nothing,” Miles told him. “Just go one like normal.”

“Easy for you to say,” Aaron snapped but his head jerked up and Charlie followed his gaze to see Cynthia in the hallway. She was wearing a pair of gray pants and a green shirt and had a long sleeved robe overtop her pajamas that was hanging open. “Cynthia, sorry, did we wake you?”

“It’s okay. I’ve actually been awake for a while. Charlie. Miles. I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop but I heard what you said about the Patriots finding a body.”

“So you know,” Miles said, “why you have to pretend everything is just like yesterday. School and planning that dance and all that stuff.”

“ Let us know what we can do to help,” Charlie added. “You don’t have to go through it alone. Just tell everyone you twisted our arm or something.” Cynthia gave a tiny smile and seated herself on the other side of Aaron and leaned her head against his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Just tired. I didn’t sleep well and if we don’t know how these nanites work we don’t know how much blood they restored or if I’m running a little low right now. It kind of feels like that, actually.”

“Can I make you breakfast?” Aaron asked. “Charlie? Miles?”

She and Miles both declined and Cynthia yawned and shook her head. “In a little bit. I just want to sit here for a few minutes.”

“We should probably go,” Charlie said. “We need to fill in Mom and Jeremy. Do you want me to come back later. Help you with any planning on that dance.”

Cynthia shook her head again. “No, it can wait a day or so. Go ahead and send me Jeremy tomorrow though, if it’s possible. No offense, Charlie, but he seems like he might be a little better suited to helping plan something like this.”

“None taken. You’re probably right. I will get you a deer for it though. In fact, that was going to be our excuse if anyone wanted to know what we were doing out this morning.”

“In that case, maybe I want two deer. If you need an excuse for multiple hunting trips.”

Charlie grinned at her and rose from the sofa and she had Miles shut the door behind them. “You know she probably heard your kittens speech too unlike Aaron, she didn’t promise not to tell anyone about it.”

Miles glared at her but he reached out a hand to ruffle her hair. “Well neither did you. And Cynthia doesn’t seem like the type to repeat it. You, on the other hand. . . .”

She shrugged. “Nah. I like everyone else thinking you’re the hardened, sarcastic one. There’s a few of us who know better thought.”

“Great. Just great.” 

They set a leisurely pace back towards Gene’s and were about halfway there before Miles cleared his throat. “So. This morning. You didn’t seem surprised when you came in so I assume you already knew.”

“About you and Mom? Yeah. I’ve known since the first morning. She and I even talked about it last night? Didn’t she tell you?”

“No. But I’m glad she talked to you. I had been telling her she should. I know you and I had talked before we went to Mexico. But it’s always a little different when something happens, even if you’re expecting it.”

“Miles, I’ve had over a year to get used to the idea. And she finally seems happy. That’s not something I’ve really seen before.”

“I can’t imagine why. I’m kind of a mess, Charlie. Not sure what she’s thinking.”

She shoved her elbow into his side and he laughed. “She says I inherited my taste in men from her. And since I’m with Bass, that should tell you something.”

“Yeah, couldn’t you have gone out and found some nice farm boy who’d have taken care of you and not involved you into another war?”

“Sounds boring.”

“Boring can be good.” He looked at her almost hopefully and she shook her head.

“Yes, it can. But that’s not my life. Besides, stop feeling guilty about Bass and I. I chose to start having sex with him.” She ignored Miles’ wince and him miming putting his fingers in his ears. “You didn’t tell me to do it. Jeremy told me a few weeks ago that I should try to be the first Matheson not to make a martyr of their happiness out of some cosmic sense of justice. He may be onto something. You and Mom should try it sometime.”

He looked thoughtful and Charlie grinned at him. “Oh, when Mom and I talked last night I told her about the idea for Bass and I to have a farm and you and her to run a hotel. She actually thought that sounded like fun.”

“Wow, when you and your mother talk you two really talk, don’t you?”

“Hope you don’t mind?”

He shook his head. “I’ve actually been afraid to even bring it up to her. Didn’t want her to think I was assuming she’d want to be with me forever. Rachel’s a beautiful woman and she’s super smart. She could do a lot better than me.”

“She loves you. Why would she want to?”

“Fair enough. Damn, all this mushy talk is contagious. I think I’ve talked about feelings more times in the last 48 hours than the entire rest of my life combined. So, Bass tell you we got about 50 rounds of M4 ammo off those guys last night.”

“He did. That brings us up to what? Close to 3000 rounds for M4?”

“Something like that. Jeremy had the updated numbers from what they did while we were gone. I can’t believe I’m planning a war with less ammo than what we’d have requested for annual qualification.”

“Well, unless we want to try to knock over a Patriot ammo depot?”

He looked thoughtful but then noticed her grin.”Dressed in drag? I think not. That’s why we’re having a resistance, not open warfare.” He sighed. “Some days I miss open warfare.”

“I don’t,” she said firmly but even as the words left her mouth she realized there were some parts of her that did. There was a simplicity to it that their current situation made her almost long for. No sneaking at vents or not knowing who to trust or plotting who to subvert. He stared at her for a long time, then shook his head, as if he knew she wasn’t telling the truth. “Okay, I thought I didn’t.”

“Yeah, I get that. Damn, kid. You know, Ben always joked when we were younger that with our luck his kids were going to end up just like me and mine would be just like him. Did he ever have that dead on. Some days it scares me how much you’re like me.”

“So would you have minded having kids like him?”

Miles sighed, then shook his head. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with them. But my brother was the best person I’ve ever known. The world could have used a few more people like him.” He turned to smile at her. “Maybe when you and Bass start reproducing.”

She’d loved Ben and missed him every day. But she looked around the road, weeds growing in cracks and a few junked cars making obstacles to weave around. It hadn’t just been his fault – the whole Tower project had been so screwed up it practically screamed a committee had been involved. But there was no avoiding the thought both her parents had been on that committee. 

 

Everyone but Carissa was seated around the kitchen table when Charlie and Miles walked in the door and Charlie saw Rachel visibly relax as she unsung her crossbow. “Did you tell them?” Miles asked and Rachel nodded.

“I did. So, was there another one?”

“Yeah. About eighty feet or so from the others. No idea what he was doing over there. Lookout or rearguard or something. No sign they’d found where the four died but we didn’t stick around to be spotted. We stopped in to let Aaron and Cynthia know and see how she was doing this morning. That’s what took so long.”

‘You want breakfast?” Bass asked and Miles shook his head. 

“Not really.”

Connor rose and walked over to the stove and poured hot water from the kettle into two teacups and add a tea strainer. Miles looked at him like he was crazy as Connor handed him the cup but he wrapped his hands around it and took a sip anyway. Charlie accepted her mug gratefully.

“So,” Connor said, grinning at her. “Friend of your Dad? I don’t recall you mentioning lighting people on fire with his mind.”

“We weren’t sure it wasn’t some kind of a fluke.”

“Hell of a fluke,” Gene commented. “I examined Carl’s body. And that woman who was in the car with him. I always thought there was something odd about those burns. Too hot to be just a lantern.”

“Car?” Connor said, looking surprised. “Someone had a car working?”

“No.” Rachel’s voice was decisive. “Carl had a woman with him in an old parking lot outside town. Aaron found them by accident and Carl attacked him. He thought it was the lantern and he tried to get them out. And we will not speak to him about this.”

“She’s right,” Miles announced. “If the Patriots found out what he could do, they’d turn him into the next lab rat. And I don’t know all the details of their reprogramming camps, but I do know I do not want to ever find myself on the other side of any battle where they’ve drugged Aaron to the point where he doesn’t understand what or who he is. So we are going to stop talking about this. And we aren’t going to plot to use him as some sort of secret weapon either. He doesn’t know how it works and maybe that’s for the best. I’ve done war where I’ve justified atrocities because I thought the other side would do worse. But we’re not going there this time. Not if he can’t control it.”

“So,” Jeremy said slowly, “you are at least thinking about it.”

“Of course I am,” Miles admitted. “It’s impossible not to. But at what point do we admit that we make ourselves worse than the enemy we’re trying to prevent. It’s not worth it.”

“Hey, you won’t get any argument out of me,” Bass commented. “I’ve played this game too. The possibilities are endless but the consequences.” He looked over at Connor. “Benevolent Dictator lesson number one. Just because you have a weapon, doesn’t mean you should use it.”

Miles shook his head. “No, Benevolent Dictator lesson number one would be all benevolent dictators eventually turn into power hungry disasters.”

Bass shrugged. “Okay. What he said. But the part about not using a weapon. . .that’s true too.” This time Miles nodded enthusiastically.

Connor yawned and took a drink from his own mug. “I still think you’re all crazy. I just feel like I’m starting to understand everything and then I find out about things like this. What else haven’t you told me? Zombies? Vampires? Time lords?”

Jeremy laughed at the last one and Bass sighed before he spoke. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly thinking when I decided it would be a good idea to go meet you. But I wasn’t expecting this. You can still go back to Mexico.”

“Hell no, this is way more interesting than running dope fields.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a shorter chapter than the last two but it seemed like it had reached a logical conclusion and anything else would be rehashing the same dialog again. Aaron has presented himself as a fascinating possibility for exploitation so I have to give them a good reason for ignoring such a powerful possible weapon. Because when you're faced with the possibility of ending everything very quickly (how much more inclusive could the order "kill them, kill them all" have been if Aaron hadn't been essentially a nice guy), it's got to be a temptation.
> 
> But the whole theme is about building a resistance, not flambeing the opposition in one fell swoop. Yes I think there is a tactical angle to it they are least have to discuss, even if they ultimately decide it's a weapon safest not to employ. 
> 
> At this point you'd think I'd welcome a chance to wrap things up quickly since this has ran probably at least 75000 words longer than intended. But then again, I also don't want to take the easy way out because I am falling in love with the ending I'm still working on and the epilogue I finished nearly a month ago (yes, it's a neat wrap up and everyone is in a pretty good place but it's also ten years later so things have had a chance to even out).
> 
> But there's still more story between now and then.
> 
> I couldn't find anything in canon to suggest Miles wasn't a fan of heights but then again, I also can't remember too many times he's been up something high. I wanted to give him and Charlie something to talk about on the walk and the whole training accident scenario was too good to not use. Something similar happened to a friend (his belay wasn't paying attention and he fell about thirty feet).


	26. Chapter 26

Between the short night of sleep and early morning, Charlie was yawning into her mug of tea. She was getting soft, she realized. She’d gone days with little sleep and on the trip to Mexico she’d fallen back on the habit of two or three hours being enough and hadn’t really thought about it. But once back in a house again, it was like her body was demanding a regular schedule.

Bass looked over and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He stood up in the middle of Jeremy and Gene discussing crop rotation – she’d not been paying attention and had no idea how they’d gotten on that subject or if there was any purpose to it all – and they both broke off.

“Okay, everyone gets to make their own lunch today. Charlie, you look like you could use a nap.”

“It’s not even nine,” Gene said, looking suspicious. “Everything okay?”

Connor looked at her, face suddenly hopeful. “No,” she snapped but kept her tone light. “I’m not pregnant. But I was up with Cynthia most of the night while Miles, Bass and Aaron moved the bodies and then up again at dawn when Truman arrived.”

Connor looked disappointed and Jeremy smacked him lightly in the back of the head. “She gets really touchy when you ask her about it and Gene ends up asking questions about menstrual cycles. It’s disturbing.”

“Speaking of pregnancy, what are you doing yourself?” Charlie asked. “Do I need to start sharing my tea with Carissa?”

Bass and Miles grinned at each other and Jeremy chucked. “Not a chance. I got myself fixed years ago.” But his hand went to his groin and he winced.

“So,” Bass said, pointing at Jeremy, “we were fighting to take Pittsburg. And he gets an infected cut on his arm. My physician had gotten shot in the throat a couple of days before and Jeremy ends up finding this doctor living on the outskirts of the city and pretty much conscripts him. Turns out his primary practice was reproductive but he still drains the wound, slaps some maggots and mold into it and over the next week complains about how he really isn’t a real doctor and how society is going to hell because people are breeding freely with no alternate methods of conception. Of course he forgets that at this point people are also dying off like crazy. No one really knows what the birth to death ratio was at this point, but overpopulation wasn’t really a problem.”

He walked over to the sink and refilled the tea kettle. “This guy is absolutely terrified of me because he suggested we all let him do vasectomies so we never had to worry about kids and I told him what I’d do with him if I ever caught him near my balls.”

“I’d have considered it,” Miles said. “But this guy was a little crazy. I don’t think he’d been able to adapt to the new world and he cracked a little. Like named his maggots and bawled when any of them died crazy.”

“But we kept him around, because he was good with infections,” Bass added. “He and Jeremy started going off for some quiet little talks and I figured hey, best not to judge. But it turned out Jeremy had something different in mind. So we had a lull, both groups waiting for re-enforcements. Lasted about three days. Well, day four their guys showed up from Boston and ours were still somewhere between Pittsburg and Philadelphia, and we were trying to hold on to what we gained. So here we were, huddling in bombed out buildings, trying to stop their advance. After about six hours of lying in a fighting position, Jeremy rolls over onto his back, twists his shoulders around and starts shooting from there. It looked incredibly awkward, though he was still hitting about the same number of targets. We’re yelling at him because we think maybe he got hit or something and he looks over at us, yells that he has stitches in his nuts and we just need to leave him alone.”

“I’ve always known I never wanted kids,” Jeremy commented, grinning. “I’d even tried to get a vasectomy before the blackout but I couldn’t manage to convince a doctor to do it since I’d never had children. They all kept thinking I’d change my mind. I figured when was I going to find someone else willing to do the surgery.”

“But why then?” Gene asked. “Wouldn’t it have been better to have waited for when you weren’t fighting?”

“We’d been fighting for three years by that point.” Jeremy said. “It was just another day of getting shot at. I’d gotten it done about two days before but I could only lay on the stitches for so long before I couldn’t take it anymore. I wasn’t sure how much longer the doctor was going to be with us. He was pretty nuts. But he was clean and that was more than I could say for some of them.”

“He was a compulsive handwasher,” Miles agreed. “And he shaved himself three times a day if he got the chance. And I don’t just mean face. He shaved everything. Linden, that was his name.”

Bass and Jeremy both nodded. “So I figured why waste the chance. And hey, our guys eventually showed up and we took Pittsburg about a week later. And it turned out to be a good thing I didn’t wait because Linden died about a month week after we took Pittsburg. Fell off his horse and broke his neck riding to the lab we’d set up for him in Philadelphia.”

“What happened to his maggots?” Gene asked and Jeremy smirked. 

“We found a veterinarian who was willing to play doctor for us. We gave them to him. He constantly complained because people were too much alike and that we weren’t a challenge like having to operate on a leopard gecko one day and a Siberian husky the next. But he could pull out bullets with the best of them.”

“Okay, much as I love rehashing funny stories about the foundation of the Republic,” Bass commented, his voice implying anything but enjoyment, “some of us had a late night and an early morning. I’ll see you all this afternoon. Anyone mind potato-horsemeat hash? Connor, I can do some with venison for you.”

“I feel bad with having to cook something different for me.”

Bass waved hand. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, with seven people eating horse three meals a day, we’re going to be done with it pretty soon. No complaints. Okay. I’m going up to take a nap with Charlie. Unless you want me to make you something to eat first, Charlie? You still haven’t had breakfast.”

“Just make me a jelly sandwich that I can take upstairs with me. I’m not hungry right now.”

“Deal.” He pulled the kettle off the stove and refilled both their mugs before pulling the loaf of bread from the cupboard. “Cherry or strawberry?”

“Surprise me.” She yawned and picked up her mug in one hand and her crossbow in the other. “See you all at dinner. Somebody wake me if something exciting happens.”

“Aaron lit people on fire last night,” Rachel said, her mouth creasing slightly. “Do you mean more exciting than that?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Actually,” she heard Rachel say, “a nap doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I didn’t sleep much either. Miles?”

Bass’ boots on the stairs covered Miles’ reply but it didn’t take much to guess what he would say. She led the way into their room and put the plate on top of the dresser along with both their cups of tea. She propped the crossbow against the wall and dropped the glock on the desk as Bass – who wasn’t wearing his swords in the house – added a revolver he’d had tucked into a shoulder-holster.

“It’s morning,” she said to him softly and he grinned at her but held her away from him when she tried to step in close. 

“Yes, it is morning. But if you’re tired, this can wait. I don’t know how much you and Miles had to do to avoid Patriots but –“

“We walked a couple of miles, climbed a tree then sat on a couch talking to Cynthia and Aaron. The most difficult part of the day was when Jeremy lost his blanket running back into his room. He’s got a nice ass but all it did was make me appreciate yours more.”

Bass laughed, this time relaxing his arms so she could step into him. “Okay then.”

She wasn’t sure if he was thinking of Cynthia and how quickly the Patriots could take her away from him but he held her close the entire time, kissing her neck and hair gently, He often let her set the pace but he seemed to deliberately going slower than normal and she orgasmed twice before he finally allowed himself to come, head buried in her neck. Afterwards he pressed their foreheads together and smiled at her and she couldn’t help but grin back as he helped her roll her hips to a more comfortable angle, her back pressed to his chest. She didn’t even know for sure when she fell asleep.

She guessed it was a little more than an hour later when she woke again, slipped out of bed and ran down the stairs. Connor waved at her when she went out the kitchen door and he was still at the table when she came back in, a small pile of potatoes in front of him that had been scrubbed. He was chopping them into small pieces and nodded at her when she came walked over to look.”

“Hey, Charlie. Gene assures me this is the way you cut potatoes for hash. I thought it would be nice for. . .James, to come down and find it already done.”

“He’ll love it.” Even if she had to tell him that he would.

“Everyone said they’d give me a job when I’d been here a couple of days and no has come up with anything yet so I figured I’d just try to help everyone out.”

“That’s great. Thanks. Not sure when we’re getting the next shipment of meat to smoke for the Patriots but it will probably be soon. You can help with that”

“Yeah, I meant to ask about that.” He frowned. “I get the whole cover part but doesn’t it help them more than it does us? Everyone knows armies march on their stomachs. So what if they went hungry for a little?”

“Anyone tell you what’s in the shipments?”

“Stuff we butcher and smoke for them?”

“And ammo. Miles has a contact who works in one of their depots. He’s skimming whatever ammo he can without throwing the numbers off and hiding it in their own food shipments. Because they search just about everything coming into and out of their areas. But not their own supply trains.” Connor looked surprised and impressed at the same time, but then grimaced and sat back in his chair like he’d thought of something he didn’t particularly like. “What?”

He shook his head but then took a deep breath. “Every time I start feeling like I’m doing something to help out I get reminded just how little I’m needed. I mean, I thought I was hot shit, working for the cartels. Having thirty men under my command. And I get up here and look at the way you people live and think how much more effective it would be if I had my way. And then I find out that Miles is smuggling ammo, Jeremy’s sleeping with their intel officer. And as for. . . .” he stopped before he said the name out loud but he glanced at the ceiling. “Really, I’m kind of pointless here. Together, what more do they need?”

“About a thousand more fighters would be a nice start.” Charlie grabbed a chunk of raw potato and bit into it. “Can I give you a piece of advice about those three? Mostly about the two in particular?” He nodded. “You’ll listen to them talking, and you’ll think they don’t need anyone else. A unit unto themselves. Hell, wait till you see them reading each other’s minds in a fight. But they went with the two of them alone against the world once and it didn’t work out so well for them. And if they’re not going to go down that road, they’re going to need their family. And like it or not, you’re now a part of the family. So yeah, if you want to go back to Mexico, they won’t try to stop you. But don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you’re not needed here too.” She took a deep breath. “And as for finding where you fit? Yeah, I’ve been there too. But one day you’ll realize you’ve made your own place.”

He looked thoughtful and finally smiled. “Is this the stop feeling sorry for yourself and keep cutting up the potatoes speech?”

“Does it have to be?” He shook his head. “You should have seen me when I first went to Miles almost two years ago. But the thing is, with a resistance, you’re only as good as the cells you can form. And I know Miles is working a few contacts to get us ammo and resources. But we’ve not really expanded yet. So if anything happens to Miles, or Bass or Jeremy, it’s going to be the rest of us that have to step up and go on.”

Connor looked shaken. “They both just seem so indestructible.”

Charlie snorted, “Trust me. No one is bulletproof. Well,” she added after a moment, “maybe Aaron. But not the rest of us.”

She grabbed another square of raw potato and smiled at him before heading back up the stairs. Bass was still asleep and she kicked the mattress near the foot of the bed. He opened his eyes enough to glare at her as he rolled over, holding the blanket up. She ignored his smile, even if she didn’t want to. “Get up.”

He shook his head. “Come back to bed.”

“I don’t think so.” He sat up as she took a seat at the desk.

“What’s wrong?” He was still half-asleep but his forehead was furrowed . “Charlie?”

“All we hear about for months is about your son and how you need to find him. We go down to Mexico, you’re ready to walk away from everything – all of us – to try to save him. Then we get him up here and you’ve practically ignored him ever since.”

“I thought,” she could tell from his careful annunciation that he was annoyed, “he could use some space.”

“You’ve given him that. He’s downstairs right now chopping potatoes. He says it’s because he’ bored and trying to help out. But he didn’t pick laundry or sweeping or hunting. No, he picks the thing you do around the house. So get up, go downstairs and talk to your kid.”

“I. . .I’m not sure I know how?” Bass rubbed his hands across his face and when he dropped them Charlie could see the emotions he’d been trying to hide. “Maybe it would be best to give him a few more days. Just to get used to things.”

She shook her head. “He’s had plenty of time.”

“Maybe it’s better coming from you. It’s easy to see the two of you get on really well together.” She could hear in his voice a remnant of his fear that he was too old for her, and she snorted at him.

“Yeah. Because I know what it’s like to be left in the dark and fed shit. He’s not a mushroom. Stop treating him like one.” Bass glared at her and she moved to sit on the bed. He leaned against her, head on her shoulder. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually, though. You know that right? Avoiding him doesn’t mean you get to avoid it.”

“You mean the part where I get to tell him I got his Mom killed?”

“You can’t put it off forever.”

“Charlotte, would you please stay out of my head.” He sounded exasperated and amused at the same time and she titled her neck to kiss the top of his ear.

“You read mine often enough. It’s about damn time I get some payback around here.”

He groaned and pushed himself up and she smiled, watching him walk naked over to where he’d dropped his clothes. He stretched and she looked away before she could change her mind and drag him back towards the bed. He finished dressing and turned to look at her, his gaze pleading but she ignored it as she grabbed for her fletching supplies and headed back to the desk. “Trust me, if I can bond with my mother, you can go talk to your kid. Just don’t expect it to be perfect overnight. It’s taken me over a year to get where I am with her.”

She started to set her fletching up after he walked out the door but there really wasn’t room on the small desk. The kitchen table would have been ideal, but she knew she would just end up with Bass and Connor both talking to her but not to each other.

She missed Nora, she realized as she shoved everything back into the pack. Rachel was doing so much better but having Nora had been like having an older sister that she could share things with and not worry about how it would compare to whatever standards Rachel set that sometimes made no sense. 

She grimaced as she realized there was probably only one person she could talk to and she stood, walking down the hall to Jeremy’s room. She knocked and she heard shuffling before he answered the door – fully dressed to her relief. He looked at her, head tilted sideways and held the door open, stepping back so she could come in.

The desk had a partially disassembled M4 spread across a towel and Charlie frowned at it. “Where’d you get that?”

“It’s Carissa’s actually. I told her I’d clean it for her. And before you think I’m getting domestic, I bent her buffer spring – which she’d probably notice if she cleaned it herself so I keep volunteering.” Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Clever.”

“Thank you. I thought of taking the firing pin but she actually checked her bolt the last time I cleaned it. Not sure if she didn’t trust me or she just doubted my competence. But even if she checks, the buffer spring could be a total accident. She’ll still get a shot off but I doubt she’ll get a second.”

“Worried she’s going to take a shot?”

He shrugged. “We’re going to have to tell her soon. But no matter how I think she’s going to react, still best to not take too many chances. So, what brings you here?”

“I just made Bass go downstairs and talk to Connor. Not sure if I’m pushing both of them too hard or not hard enough.”

Jeremy smiled. “Good for you. Bass. . .he’s like the perpetual motion machine. Get him going and he’s almost impossible to stop. But damn, when he stopped, good luck getting him going again. And he’s been on this self-loathing kick for a while now.”

“Except down in Mexico, he was going to leave Miles and I and go restart the Monroe Republic to give to Connor. To get him to leave Nunez.” Jeremy whistled softly.

“What the hell was he thinking?”

“I don’t think he was. And nothing we could say would get through to him. Miles. . .Miles even said we couldn’t stop him.”

“Well clearly you did. How?” He looked honestly curious. “I mean, I tried everything I could think of for years to talk him down from the ledge when he was General and not a damn thing worked.”

“I buttstroked him in the forehead with my crossbow and told Miles we weren’t leaving him. Because I promised I’d not let him go down that road again.”

“That worked?” He sounded surprised.

“Oddly enough, yeah, it did. When he sat back up he was Bass again and he told me later he’d been worried I’d walk away if things got bad.”

“Huh. I may have to remember that trick. So that’s where he got the bruise. Wait, what about the nearly identical bruise on Connor?” She smiled slightly and Jeremy grinned at her. “Damn. I may have underestimated you. Well done.”

“Thanks. But what I wanted to ask about was forcing him and Connor to go talk to each other. Is that the right call or should I keep being their go-between?”

Jeremy shook his head. “I’d say go with your gut. You’ve proven that you have great instincts. It won’t hurt them to talk to instead of around each other. I’ve noticed that too.”

She walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, glancing around the room. She’d really only lived in it for about two weeks between the time when she’d gotten back from her trip to the Plains Nation and when she had moved into the room with Bass and it had never really felt like anything other than a transient living area – even when they had first brought Rachel from Colorado. She was pretty sure the last night she’d really slept in it was the night Bass had tried to leave to join the Patriots. Neither Jeremy or Carissa seemed to take their occupation any more permanently than she had. She could see clothes in the closet and she knew there were some in one of the dresser drawers but there were no personal items that she could detect.

Jeremy saw her glancing around and smiled. “Ever wish you’d have stayed in here?”

She shrugged. “No real reason to. We usually end up giving each other enough space it doesn’t make us crazy.”

“Which is kind of surprising. Bass has always been more the clingy type with people he cares about.”

“Well his abandonment issues are nothing compared to my own, so it kind of makes us even.” 

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, then nodded his head in concession. “Fair enough. I suppose you’re probably one of the few people who’d actually be able to understand that.”

“Plenty of people have lost their family since the blackout. I’m not the only one.” She thought of Maggie, always wondering if her sons had died in England. “Then again, most people don’t have to deal with losing people and finding out their parents engineer the blackout and their uncle was co-founder of the Monroe Republic.”

“There you go. Way to own it.” He shook his head at her look of confusion. “Never mind. Sometimes talking to you reminds me of when I was talking to my grandmother. She didn’t get most of what I said either.”

“Sometimes I feel like all of you speak a different language. It does get really confusing.”

He laughed as he finished putting the M4 back together and walked it over to the closet. “I just really hope one us doesn’t ever have to use this thing. Or we’re screwed.”

Charlie helped Jeremy go through the dresser drawers Carissa used, lifting out her clothes and poking through them, trying to disturb them as little as possible. However, they turned up nothing other than the clothes themselves and after nearly half an hour he grimaced. “Probably better quit. No telling what time she’ll get home. Think we should go check of Bass and Connor?”

“Yeah, they’ve probable been alone long enough,” Charlie agreed.

Charlie and Jeremy both tried to be quiet on the stairs but Bass was looking straight at them when they rounded the corner around the banister and she almost smiled, realizing that trying to sneak up on him was a little like trying to sneak up on Miles. And, she realized, if she ever did manage to truly surprise him, it might not be something either of them would enjoy.

Connor had finished chopping potatoes but there was a pile of onions in front of him as well as shredded carrots. Bass was seated at the table, leaning back in his chair and he gave her a look that clearly asked ‘there, are you happy now?’ and she nearly laughed. The air smelled like some kind of roasting meat but she wasn’t sure if it was venison or horse and she and Jeremy took seats at the table. Connor smiled at her. “Hey guys. Um, James was just telling me about how his mom taught him to cook. What was her name again?”

It would have been a perfectly banal and slightly pointless conversation if Connor had been her cousin. But since any stories about James’ mother would actually be about Connor’s grandmother, Charlie supposed there was probably a point to it.

“Her name was Gail,” Bass said softly and Connor glared at him.

“I know that. William and Gail Monroe. I couldn’t remember the names of your fake parents.”

“Oh. Craig and Janet Kingston. “

“How do you remember things like that?” Charlie asked. “You made that up a few months ago and as far as I know, haven’t mentioned them since.”

“Janet Craig was Miles and my first grade teacher. We met in her class. I picked things I thought I could remember easily.”

“Sneaky bastard,” Jeremy said but there was admiration in his tone. “Someday I’m going to write a book about you and then you won’t b able to get away with all these little tricks.”

“Good luck with the publisher,” Bass sniped. “Anyway, we both know you’d never do it because I know plenty of things you don’t want others to know.” He rose and wandered over to the stove. “But it’s a good thought. Charlie said we should have Aaron write a history book about the Monroe Republic. Maybe I’d even author a few chapters myself. I even have the perfect title.”

“If it’s ‘The Three Stooges’ or ‘Dumb and Dumber’, I don’t want to hear it.”

Bass laughed. “No, but if you’re close. ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’”

“Duh, I should have guessed that one. Movie titles,” he said, seeing the looks Charlie and Connor were giving them. “An absolute classic.”

Charlie shrugged. “Figured something like that. I sometimes think you probably miss electricity more than any of us except Aaron. Since you talk so much about things that are gone.”

Jeremy’s face suddenly went bleak and he shook his head. “No. I do that sometimes because I’m trying to remember all the things we lost. But truth is. . .who I was then. . .I don’t miss him at all. If I could change things and prevent the blackout of course I would. As many bad things that happened to people, I’d be a monster not to. But me, personally? I was only half alive; living in my brain and not really appreciating the fact there was an entire physical world I was missing. Granted, I nearly died before these two found me. But after that. . .I’m not sure I ever once really regretted it even a fraction as much as I should have.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still working on the end of this and finally starting to be happy with it. However, the more I write on it the more I realize we still have a little ways to go before we get there. And I regret to announce that it's spawned a sequel. Which it wasn't supposed to do. But I now have two complete chapters of something that happens after my epilogue. Not sure if it will turn into a novel or just be short stories. But since this was just supposed to be a short story, all bets are off.


	27. Chapter 27

Carissa still wasn’t home by the time Charlie and Bass went to bed but Charlie propped herself up after Bass fell asleep with a book about a group of siblings who had tried to raise money to buy a new cook stove for their mother after their old stove began to rust. It was technically a children’s story but it was well written and actually entertaining and she was starting to be interested on what would happen when she heard the kitchen door open. She blew out the candle before she slid out of bed and moved as quietly down the stairs as she could.

Carissa had the pantry door open, cursing softly and Charlie smiled slightly before asking, “Anything I can help with?”

Carissa gasped as she spun around, one hand going to her chest. “Charlie, you about gave me a heart attack. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah, couldn’t sleep.“ Wouldn’t sleep was more like it, but the Patriot Captain didn’t need to know that. “You okay?”

Carissa snorted. “It’s been the day from hell, honestly. Sorry, I can’t say anything more about it than that. But my feet hurt, my ass hurts and I think my pride hurts most of all. And Truman was so desperate to have everyone give their opinion we’ve spent the last six hours in meetings. I think he was under the impression we’d get more ideas if we worked together, but really all he did was get us to stop thinking about two hours ago.”

Charlie opened the oven and lit a stick on the dying coals before using it to start a lantern. The pale light wavered across the kitchen and Carissa pulled out the crock of strawberry jam and the loaf of bread. “Do you want me to get you any venison for that?” Charlie asked but Carissa shook her head.

“Nope. I just want a jelly sandwich and a chance to stretch out. If Jeremy is expecting anything tonight other than me passing out, he’s in for a nasty surprise.” She looked a little guilty. “That’s probably not fair. I had a bad headache last week and he massaged my scalp for almost an hour, kissed me on the forehead and went to sleep.”

“So how serious is it with you two? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all,” Carissa said, taking the piece of bread Charlie sliced for her. “He’s a darling, and I kind of adore him right now but there’s no future in us.”

“I thought that about James once.”

Carissa snorted. “It was obvious from the first day I met you that you two adored each other.” The Patriot looked suddenly confused. “Though, come to think of it, you did seem a little hesitant that first night. Thought he was still planning on leaving?” Charlie nodded and Carissa laughed. “Well, aren’t we always most blind about our own relationships. He clearly wasn’t about to go anywhere.”

Except that hadn’t been the case. Bass might have been attracted to her earlier than she was to him –though she still didn’t think he was quite honest with himself about Philadelphia. He had said he had wanted her since then but she remembered how focused he’d been on Rachel and the power and from everything she’d heard, he was still obsessed about Miles leaving him. If he’d felt an attraction to her then it had only been that he thought he could use her to control Rachel and Miles both. But he’d always been better at acting than she had and she smiled slightly, letting Carissa think whatever she wanted. “So why not Jeremy?”

Carissa’s laugh was a little sad. “He and Miles might not be lovers any more. . .though I have my own pet theory on that. . .but he’s not leaving your family. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great family. Makes me almost a little jealous even though I love my own too. But I have a job to do and one day – probably a lot sooner than I’m ready for – I’m going to get recalled to D.C. and he’ll be staying here. I get the feeling he would be running screaming if that weren’t the case. Maybe I get the chance to enjoy him because we both know this relationship ends the day my orders arrive. Besides,” she paused a moment. “I want kids someday and he’s already told me that he can’t. So it’s a lot of fun; maybe more so because it’s temporary.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought a lot about it.”

“I have completely talked myself into it.” Carissa leaned closer to her, voice dropping, blushing. “Trust me, Charlie. The man has skills. And he’s about the only person I’ve ever dated who actually seemed to enjoy giving foot massages. I haven’t figured out if it’s a fetish or he’s just nailed my weak spot.” They both laughed and Carissa put her sandwich on a plate. “See you tomorrow.”

Charlie nodded, pouring herself a glass of water as Carissa headed up the stairs. It wasn’t as much intel as she had hoped for but she doubted the two of them would have that sort of exchange if Carissa had suspected them of being connected to the disappearance of the patrol. She washed the glass and put it back on the drain board, snuffed the lantern and went back to bed.

 

She went hunting the next morning, circling around the area where the body had been found but there was no sign of activity in the area and she tried to find where Cynthia and Aaron had been attacked but she wasn’t sure if she was in the wrong spot or if there really was just no trace of it and she moved on after about twenty minutes of searching in case there were patrols still around. She saw two deer but she missed on purpose – deciding she didn’t want to have to pack the animal back to Gene’s when she was pretty sure she could get them closer to home. She walked over to retrieve the arrow and fired it again, sighting on a tree-limb that snapped and fell to the ground. 

She spent about an hour, circling back to Gene’s – shooting at whatever took her fancy and picking up the arrows again as she passed her targets. If there had been one patrol that night there may have been others but she didn’t know if it was frightening or a relief that she didn’t find signs of them. The earlier Patriot patrols they’d tracked had practically hung signs about their presence and she didn’t know if they had either improved or if Carissa living with them had meant the patrols had been assigned elsewhere.

Cynthia was in the kitchen when she got back and Charlie grinned at her, brushing past Jeremy to hug her. Cynthia still looked exhausted but it was the sort of thing that could have been blamed on a bad night’s sleep or a minor cold.

Rachel handed Charlie a piece of toast slathered with butter and she bit into it, looking around. “Where are Miles and James?”

“They fled as soon as I arrived,” Cynthia said, dry humor seeping into her voice. “To be fair, I think it was the fact I’m here to plan that dance Miles says I need to keep organizing.”

“Figures,” Charlie commented. “I thought we were going to have Jeremy go see you?”

“I needed out of the house. I’d cancelled school yesterday completely but I made Aaron go in today.” Charlie nodded and Cynthia smiled. “Nellie stopped by yesterday to bring us some chicken soup – she thought I had a cold – and we started talking about her wedding. She and Tom aren’t planning a big wedding – just their families. But I asked what she would think about Willoughby hosting a reception for them a few days after they get married and she thinks that would be a lot of fun.”

“When are they getting married?” Rachel asked.

“Day after tomorrow. Sunday. I was thinking maybe Friday night for the dance. Pastor Bates can announce it in church.”

“You’ve got to promise,” Rachel said, “that you’ll take it easy. We still don’t know how much blood you lost.”

“I plan to. I was actually going to see if Jeremy was available to help.”

Jeremy laughed. “As much as you need me. What are you thinking?”

“Well, the civic building downtown has the main room downstairs that would be nice to use since we can’t guarantee the weather – though goodness knows we need the rain. I’d like to request it today in case someone already has it scheduled. And as long as I’m in town I wanted to see if I could find a couple of musicians and talk to a few people about helping set up a pit to roast the venison. “

“Sure, be happy to help. Let me get my jacket.” 

Cynthia opened her mouth, then signed. “You really weren’t worried about the seams on it, were you?”

Jeremy actually laughed, ducking his head. “I am a little. But you’re right, I was trying to get you out of the room.”

“What for?”

Charlie thought back rapidly, trying to remember what they’d been discussing and Jeremy signed, obviously also remembering it had been Aaron bringing up Connor’s parentage. “Do you mind if we don’t get into it yet?” Charlie said. “I know you want to know everything – and goodness knows you’ve earned the right – but there are few things it’s safest you not know yet. Trust me, we won’t keep it from you forever.” 

Cynthia grimaced, her shoulders hunching and Rachel reached over to pat her hand. It was such a human gesture, coming from Rachel, that Charlie had to hide her shocked expression. “Fine. But one of these days. . . .”

“Agreed,” Charlie told her. “And then you’ll understand why. I promise.”

“I suppose it’s better,” Cynthia said, her tone dry, “then you all lying to me and telling me I’m just imagining things. But it’s probably more frustrating.”

“Charlie,” Jeremy laughed, ”can sympathize with you there. Miles and I were keeping her in the dark for a while because she did a much better job getting information for us when she didn’t know what we were doing. She didn’t really get the whole plan until the night of the quilting.”

“Were you really bitten by a spider?” Cynthia asked.

“Nope. We had just found out the Patriots had recruited Gene right after his wife died in a cholera epidemic they’d probably engineered. Traded information for medication for the town. You nearly walked in on him telling Rachel about how it happened. Be right back.” He turned and ran up the stairs.

Cynthia’s eyes widened and she glanced at Rachel, then Charlie. “But does. . .why. . .did he –“

“He’d been protecting the town,” Rachel said softly. “But he’s not told them much since I came home. Trying to protect me.”

The schoolteacher’s gaze sharpened as Jeremy came back down, jacket in hand. “So you’ll tell me about Gene, I know about Aaron and the nanites, the bombings, the epidemics, the Andovers and that Ken was also one of their agents. What could be worse that you’re not telling me?”

“It’s not worse,” Charlie said softly. “But it’s not something we want you to try to accept right now.”

“Fine.” Cynthia sighed. “But you know I’m going to come up with theories on my own.”

“Wouldn’t dream of trying to stop you,” Jeremy said. “Come on, let’s go plan a dance so people don’t know you got your throat cut open and were saved by microscopic robots that appear to love your boyfriend who created their coding.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Cynthia rose and took the arm he offered and the two of them walked out the door.

Rachel sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Um, what aren’t we telling her again. I don’t even remember.”

“You were with grandpa delivering the baby. It was about Connor really being Bass’ and not Miles’ son. Jeremy got her to go check his jacket with him so we could talk to Aaron.”

“Oh. I think she could handle finding out about Bass. She’d done so well with everything else. Better,” Rachel rubbed a hand across her face, ”than I have.”

“She probably could,” Charlie agreed. “In fact, she’s going to have to soon enough. But I think that may be a little much this soon. That and the fact we’re going to D.C. to kidnap the President. I’d rather have Aaron and Miles here when we tell her about either of those.”

“That’s probably best,” Rachel said quietly, then she started to laugh. “This has just gotten crazy, hasn’t it?”

 

Charlie took Bass hunting with her the next morning but – despite his ability to be even quieter when he moved than she was – she only managed to bag a pair of rabbits and a pheasant. They got back to Gene’s in time to see Miles and Connor between them offloading one of two very familiar looking boxes from the wagon while Jeremy looked on, face twisted into a grin. “A little help would be nice,” Miles snapped and Jeremy held up his hands.

“Hey, I’m about to go meet Cynthia to help her put together this Willoughby social or whatever name she’s using today. Can’t get my clothes dirty.”

Bass groaned but handed Charlie the rabbits and went to take the other side of the box from Miles. “Hang on a sec,” he told Connor as he and Miles walked towards the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Connor got a stubborn look Charlie recognized and looked like he was about to try grab the box on his own but Charlie put a hand on it. “Bad idea. You probably are strong enough to pick it up alone. . .but there’s a lot of fish juice in there and unless you want it to slop all over your clothes. . . .”

Connor stepped hastily away, glaring at the box with new suspicion. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Granted, by the tine we’re done,” Charlie admitted, “you’re going to be covered in fish guts. But no point in starting off that way.”

“Great.” He glanced down then grinned and Charlie smiled with him when she recognized his pants and his shirt were ones that Bass had been loaning him.

Bass came out again and together the two of them got the box between them and Charlie followed them into the kitchen where Miles was setting up pans. “Where’s mom?” Charlie asked.

“She and Gene went back to check on that baby,” Miles said. “They said they’d be back after lunch. He gestured at the buckets he’d set up behind the table. “Heads, guts, fillets. Ammo stays in the guts in case someone stops by. Any questions?” He handed Connor a knife and the younger man sighed.

“Come help me re-make the Monroe Republic,” Connor said, voice resigned. “Come help us in our coup against a possibly illegal government. And what do I do? I gut fish.” Miles groaned and Charlie laughed while Bass ducked his head, putting his hand over his mouth and Connor looked at them like they were all insane. “What?”

“There’s a really dirty joke in there,” Miles said. “Ask your father or Charlie to explain it.”

After they explained the origin of the fish-gutting joke to Connor – who mostly just looked at them like they all needed therapy; nothing new, Charlie decided – they settled into what was becoming a too familiar rhythm. Connor was slower but he was also the least experienced and his cuts grew surer as he worked through the box. “So, Miles, ” Bass asked after about half an hour, “any updated timelines on us getting out of here?”

Miles shook his head. “If I had my way we’d gone already. But Jeremy wants to give Carissa a little more time. He thinks she’s bonding with us and between that and the uproar they’ve been in over that missing patrol, he’s pretty sure she’s finding out some stuff about the Patriots she didn’t know. We overheard her reaction to finding out there were patrols in the area she didn’t know about. But Jeremy said she’s been really distracted when she comes home at night and she wasn’t back till almost ten last night.”

“Truman say anything when you picked up the fish?”

“No, just came out, thanked me and headed back inside like he was in a hurry.”

“I can see if Cynthia can get us in to see Mrs. Truman,” Charlie said. “This dance would be the perfect excuse.”

Miles nodded at her. “Great idea. But see if she can do it with Jeremy since she’s been using him elsewhere too. I want you to focus on Carissa for now. That whole conversation with her about going back to D.C. was good. More like that.” She’d reported it to Miles as soon as she’d gotten the chance and he’d looked thoughtful but hadn’t said much at the time.

“Speaking of Jeremy,” Bass said. “We’re all pretty much agreed that we’re going to D.C. when Carissa goes. Or at least not long after. What would you think of – after we’re all there – sending Jeremy off to try to round up some survivors from the Militia leadership. I know a lot of them would have died in Philadelphia, but there were also plenty that I know weren’t there. Riley.”

“Riley was terrified of you. He sold you out to Tom.”

“Well yes, which is why Jeremy would be best to meet with any of them. He’ll be able to reassure them in ways you or I couldn’t. Speaking of Tom, he has to be alive somewhere. Bastard is too stubborn to just die because I want him to.”

“Except,” Miles’ voice was surprisingly gentle, “with Julia dying in Atlanta, that would change things.” Bass looked suddenly thoughtful. “You didn’t see him, Bass. Those few seconds before we lost power again but he knew something was wrong.”

“There’d be others though. Kyp. Or Jim Hudson, if he wasn’t in Atlanta. Though he may be a little pissed with me for that whole using his wife as a hostage.”

“Hudson died enroute to Colorado.” Miles snapped. “Thanks, by the way, for that. Like I hadn’t lost enough friends already that I had to have another one killed.”

Bass sighed. “Okay, that was stupid. I should have guessed he was dead when you showed up in Colorado. I guess I kind of fooled myself into thinking maybe you’d just not brought him along.”

“Yeah, I brought him. He killed Sanborne and Ramsey before Jason Neville got him. I really could have used Ramsey in this fight. And Sanborne would have been useful in the Tower.” 

“Okay, it would probably be best if I stopped talking now,” Bass said. “Sometimes I forget how stupid I was back then.”

Miles nodded, then looked up again. “Wait a minute. Kyp? I thought you’d have executed him too?”

“I should have. He told me he knew if Tom came before you got back, you’d just get away. Which you did. We both knew he was full of shit, of course. He wouldn’t have turned you in later like he said he had planned. But I always had a soft spot for the womanizing old drunkard. And he could scrounge like no one I’d ever met. I stripped him of rank and had him sent to Boston, to work in the garrison up there. It was pretty much slave labor but he was still alive. Knowing Kyp he talked his way into someone’s good graces because of what he was able to do for them.”

Miles looked a little more cheerful as he tossed a fillet into the bucket. “We can think about it. But I’m still a little worried about what everyone will think of you.”

“They followed me once. Or rather, they followed us once. Me on my own? Yeah, they’d run screaming. But you and I together again. With Jeremy? I think some of them would go for that.”

“I’m still surprised you let Kyp live.”

Bass sighed. “I sent him off to Boston about six hours after Tom raided his house. After Rachel agreed to build the amplifier. Before you and I had our run-in. If it had been after. . .I probably would have had him shot. But I was in a good mood. I thought everything was falling into place. I was trying to be generous. Thought it was something else I could give you when you came back.”

At the time, Charlie remembered, she had been terrified that Miles would pick Monroe over her. She had thought him weak for caring about the monster who had murdered her father. But knowing Bass now, she wondered what would have been different. If Miles had chosen to rejoin the Republic he would have protected her and Rachel and Danny. She had thought the Militia had been the worse thing in the world. But she hadn’t seen the Plains Nations and their bandits; war clans weren’t something they’d ever had to deal with in Wisconsin and if Monroe had controlled the power, the Patriots would have been at a disadvantage. True, Randall Flynn would have still been around but with Miles advising him – and Rachel advising Miles – Flynn might have barely been the threat if I saner Sebastian Monroe had been there.

She remember how proud she had been of Miles when she had found out he had tried to kill Monroe the day he had rescued her and Danny. How she had thought Georgia had a chance when his amplifier was destroyed. She wondered if Atlanta and Philadelphia would still exist. All because some stupid little girl had been hell-bent on revenge and not able to see further than her own arms’ reach.

She glanced up, realizing everyone was staring at her. “What?”

“I know that look,” Bass said and Miles nodded.

“That’s the ‘I blame myself for all the world’s problems’ look,” Miles added. “I used to think it was just a Matheson genetic thing. But Rachel does it too. So do you, Bass.”

“Yeah, well, when the guilt fits.” He looked expectantly at Charlie. 

“Not something I really want to talk about.” To her surprise, Miles and Bass both went back to their fish, though Connor watched her for a few more minutes before he too looked away.

She hadn’t told him – the day in the tunnel – that she had been so upset because he hadn’t just been talking to empty air. He had been muttering both sides of the conversation between himself and his hallucination of Bass, his voice and accent shifting subtly to mimic his friend, though she hadn’t realized it until she had met Bass in the factory office. 

“Charlie,” Miles snapped and she looked over to find both he and Bass staring at her.

“What?”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I can understand that. But do you have to project whatever you don't want to talk about across the entire table?”

“Would you have tried to kill him in Philadelphia if I hadn’t pushed you so hard?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Miles asked, his face tense.

“Would you have tried to kill him? I know he offered to let you come back.” Miles had eventually told Nora and Nora had told Charlie, trying to get her to open up again after Danny had died.

“He was so pissed at me about Rachel,” Bass said softly, “I’m not sure he could have forgiven me then. I didn’t understand at the time. Now I do.” He glanced at Connor. “We both were able to get beyond what the other one did. . .but not right away.”

She sliced the head off a fish, then bisected it to remove the gut. A rifle round glinted promise from the slime and she tossed both into the pail. “He’s right.” Miles admitted. “I was angry at him. The fact that I was being a hypocrite never even crossed my mind in that instance. Only that Bass had lied to me when he’d told me Rachel was dead.”

“How,” Connor asked suddenly, “did my mother die?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to end this chapter with a "semi-cliffhanger." I usually like to try to wrap up each chapter before I start the next but I realized if I did that, it might be a while before I got something posted on here and I wanted to get something up because I've been promising an update. Needless to say, the next chapter will pick up right afterwards and this Connor has kind of been execting Emma's death involved Bass and Miles in some way so there will be tension, but not quite as much as in Fear and Loathing.
> 
> But quite truthfully, Charlie's blaming herself right now because she pushed Miles to kill Monroe and now she's wondering if things had been better if Miles had joined Bass (her worst nightmare at the time). And yes, this is possibly going to lead to a seperate story of an alternate universe "what if" Miles hadn't told Bass they weren't family anymore. But not til this one is finished. I don't want to try juggling that and "Resistance" at the same time.
> 
> Just realized I forgot to cite the book Charlie was reading at the beginning of the chapter. This was 'The Nickle-Plated Beauty' by Patricia Beatty. This was one of my favorite stories growing up and I still love re-reading it today.


	28. Chapter 28

Bass froze, blade partway into a fish and Miles groaned, “Kid, do we really have to do this now?” 

“No,” Connor said and Miles looked relieved but the young man’s jaw was set. “We don’t have to. But if we’re not going to do it now, when? I’ve been with you guys a week now and everyone dances around the subject but no one will tell me what really happened. Charlie says to wait till all of you are here. Well fine, all of you are here. I want to know.”

“It was my fault,” Bass whispered and Connor glared at him.

“Yeah, I kind of got that already. What I want to know is how it happened. I know you were all there. I don’t want to hear who’s to blame, I want to. . .Know. What. Happened.” His voice grated harshly and Charlie glanced between Miles and Bass, both looking anywhere but at him.

It would be easy, she realized, to step in and tell the story, but he needed to hear it from Bass. Monroe was already trembling, his eyes filling with tears that he wiped away, leaving a trail of fish slime across his face. He grimaced in disgust and tried to wipe it away with the back of his hand but only succeeded in getting it into his right eye. Despite the tension on all their faces and even her own disgust with herself about how she’d helped drive the wedge between them further in Philadelphia, she had to fight back a smile as she rose and grabbed a towel from the counter by the sink.

Bass caught it as she tossed it to him, wiping around his eyes carefully and then exhaled. Connor was still glaring at him but she wasn’t sure the clenched muscles in his jaw were entirely from anger any longer. “I was losing the war to Miles and Georgia. So I decided the way to get to Miles was through our home town. Your Mom. So I went to Jasper and sent a message to Miles that I’d kill everyone if he didn’t turn himself in.”

“I went,” Miles said quietly. “But not to turn myself in. I told myself I meant to kill him. But I was deluding myself. I knew exactly what he’d do if he found out you existed. I thought. . .maybe it was a chance to end the war.”

“So what happened?”

“I set fire to the courthouse with everyone in the town in it. Including your Mom. Miles got them out. So I grabbed her and dragged her into the street – a gun to her head – and told him if he didn’t come out by the time I got to five I was going to kill her.”

Connor turned to glare at Miles. “What happened?”

“I could see, just from the look on his face, what she was telling him. He stopped counting. He wasn’t even pointing the gun at her anymore.”

Both the older men exhaled and Charlie saw Connor’s jaw clench. “And then?”

“We showed up,” Charlie said softly. It wasn’t quite true. She, Nora, Dixon and Hudson had all arrived before Bass had taken Emma as a hostage, but this wasn’t the time to get too technical with timelines, she realized. “We tortured the information out of the messenger and followed Miles to Jasper. There were four of us. A Georgian Captain that was Miles liaison with President Foster, a resistance fighter named Nora, a former Militia Officer named Jim Hudson and me. Miles told us if any of us took the shot, he’s kill us himself.”

“So who took the shot?” He was staring at her, face white and she realized he was afraid it had been her.

“Dixon.” Miles said. “All the rest of them knew I meant what I said.”

“One moment she was telling me about you,” Bass whispered. “The next. . .she was just gone. I didn’t even notice I’d been hit. So stupid. He should have known it wouldn’t even have been enough to slow me down.”

Except, Charlie realized, it would have. He hadn’t left Emma. Just screamed and started shooting, wide open with no cover. Any stray show would have been enough to have killed him if Jeremy hadn’t dragged him away, screaming.”

“And Dixon?”

“I killed him.” Miles said. “As soon as I realized what had happened. But by then it was too late.”

“If I hadn’t gone there. Tried to. . . .” Bass shook his head, wiping at his eyes with the towel again.

Connor was also crying, Charlie realized, but his hands, slashing at fish, barely slowed. He finally sniffed, taking several deep breaths. “Okay.” He looked back at the fish and didn’t raise his head again.

“Okay?” Miles sounded surprised. “What do you mean by okay? There’s not much of this story that’s okay.”

“No,” Connor agreed, voice harsh but he still didn’t look up. “There isn’t. But I wanted to know the truth. “ He dropped the knife on the table and his hands were shaking. “I won’t pretend it’s all good and I can just let it go. Because yeah, I do blame you. But at least I know you didn’t kill her, even if you got her killed. I. . .had wondered if it was one of you.”

“No,” Miles said softly. “None of us would have hurt her.”

It would have been so easy, Charlie thought, to keep her mouth shut. But she knew what lies could do and if Connor was going to be able to adapt to his new family, it was best to get everything out in the open. “I almost did,” Charlie said softly and all three of them turned to stare at her.

“What are you talking about?” Miles asked.

“The shot. I almost took it myself. I knew Nora believed you and I didn’t think Dixon was that stupid. But I was pretty sure you wouldn’t hurt me. You’d have been pissed. But I figured I’d be the one who could get away with it. Dixon beat me to it by about two seconds.”

Connor was shaking his head, his whole body trembling, staring at her as if he didn’t believe her. Miles was clearly furious and Bass wasn’t looking at her at all, totally frozen, barely even breathing.

“So, “ Charlie said. “Now you know why I wanted them to be there too. Not just because I thought you needed to hear what happened from them. But because I was almost guilty of doing it myself.”

Connor shoved his chair away from the table. She thought back to the ridge of scar tissue on Bass’ left side and she stood, walking up to Connor. He looked for a moment like he wanted to hit her but he grabbed her, muffling his face in her shoulder as he sobbed against her. Just as quickly, he stepped back. “Sorry,” he said, his face twisting. “I know you mean well. But I think. . .I think I just need some air.”

“No, I’m sorry,” she told him. “I just didn’t want to lie to you about it.”

“I get it. I. . .I just think I don’t want to talk about it for right now.”

Miles and Bass were both staring at their fish as Charlie took her seat again, digging her knife into the head of a salmon, and Bass finally sighed. “Would you have really done it?”

“I was about to. Though I was going for a head shot, so I might have missed her.” She had been aiming for Monroe’s head but she could have missed as easily as Dixon.

“Well,” Miles said, his voice bitter and dry and he was glaring at her but she could tell from his voice he wasn’t as angry as he had been, “Charlie, you sure know how to totally blight the conversation, don’t you. Couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?”

“Better he finds out everything now.”

Bass shrugged, then almost smiled. “Well, the unexpected benefit. He’s not nearly as mad at me as I thought.”

“Yeah, but how mad are you at me right now?”

He exhaled, slicing into another fish. “Not sure I even know what to think right now.”

 

Connor was back for dinner but he barely looked at anything other than his plate. Everyone else was tactful enough to leave him along until Carissa seemed to notice through her own evident exhaustion. “Hey, Connor, everything okay?”

Charlie winced as Connor’s face mirrored the General Monroe expression she’d seen on Bass the day he’d tried to leave her in Mexico and she wondered that Carissa didn’t figure out the truth till she remembered the Patriot had only ever seen Bass playing James. “I’m fine. I just. . .it just hits me sometimes that my mother really is dead. That she’s been dead for a year and I only found out last week.”

Carissa looked sympathetic. “Well, if it’s any consolation, we’re reasonably certain General Monroe – her murderer – was killed in Philadelphia.”

“No, it’s no consolation whatsoever.”

“Um, Carissa,” Jeremy cut in. “That's not quite how it happened.”

“Were you there?” Connor asked and Jeremy nodded. 

“I had to pull him away from her body. He wasn’t leaving. He was totally in the open but he wasn’t leaving.”

Carissa frowned suddenly. “Why would he care? He’d just threatened to kill her.” This time it was Jeremy and Miles who both frowned.

“Um,” Miles said, “he had a lot of issues but they’d been friends growing up. He tried to have me killed too and he never managed that either.”

“I’ll say,” Jeremy sighed. “We had very strict instructions to bring Miles in alive. And it was pretty much understood that any failure to follow those orders would be lethal if Monroe ever found out. And where are you getting your intel? I never mentioned that, did I?”

“I read some of the reports in D.C. about who was responsible for the Philadelphia and Atlanta bombings. I was working for Secretary Justine Allanford before she went to Savannah. We interviewed some witnesses trying to see if we could track Monroe’s last movements to determine if he was still alive.”

“Who were the witnesses?” Miles asked but Carissa shook her head.

“Sorry. That’s classified information.”

“What did they say?” Rachel asked, her voice low. “Please. I have to know. After what he did to my family. After what he did to Atlanta.”

Carissa sighed. “They were inconclusive. Most experts agree, however, that he has to be dead. Otherwise we’d have heard from him.” She glanced back at Connor. “So it may not help. . . .”

“Thanks for trying at least.” Connor pushed away from the table. “Excuse me. I’m just not very hungry right now.”

“Damn,” Carissa muttered as Connor walked up the stairs. “I really should have kept my mouth shut again, shouldn’t I?” Not even Jeremy responded and she sighed. “Maybe someday I’ll learn.”

Gene smiled first. “Hey, not knowing how to keep quiet is practically a requirement for this family. I’d say you’re doing just fine.”

 

If Connor was quiet the next few days, even Carissa was more tactful than to bring up the subject of his mother again. He spent most of Sunday chopping the load of firewood that had been dropped off for Gene’s boiler and Monday he tackled the accumulating pile of household laundry, refusing help from anyone. Charlie finally stopped trying to help him and she was able to drop two deer on Tuesday that she got hung and gutted. Jeremy took Connor with him on Wednesday when he dropped them off to whoever Cynthia had arranged to roast them.

Jeremy brought Cynthia to Gene’s that evening to report they’d gotten absolutely no information out of their talk with Mrs. Truman. The Patriot Director’s wife had volunteered to talk to her husband about providing Soldiers to help decorate the civic center, she hadn’t responded to any of Jeremy’s promptings over Truman being distracted the day Miles had picked up the fish.

Rachel and Bass said they were baking on Thursday and Charlie walked into the kitchen after an afternoon where she’d seen no sign of game or Patriot patrols to find her mother and Bass at opposite sides of the counter, both working on something involving dough and Connor sitting at the table, digging seeds out of dried grapes.

“Hey,” she smiled, turning towards the stairs but he gestured to the chair next to his.

“Hey. How was hunting?”

“I’m a little worried,” she admitted. I’m finding nothing. Which makes me wonder if something has scared off all the game. But I’m finding no trace of patrols. So either I overhunted this last week – possible but not likely – or they’re getting better. A lot better.”

“Most likely they’re bringing in new players,” Bass said. “I always got the impression the guys we were seeing were only their public face. The new ones would be more like that group we had our run-in with down south.”

“Yeah, and was anyone else bothered about how easily they let us go?” Charlie asked. “That didn’t even make sense at the time.”

Bass grimaced and Connor shook his head. He shoved the bowl of dried grapes closer to her as she picked a few out and squeezed out the stones. He smiled at her and she felt her shoulders relax but decided not to question him. She understood his need for time and space and decided to be grateful it hadn’t lasted longer. They worked in silence for a few minutes but she noticed he kept glancing at her when he didn’t think she was looking; as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide what.

“If you ever want to talk,” she said softly. “Just let me know.”

He smiled a little, the tension seeming to relax out of his frame. “I’ll remember that. But. . .are you okay, not talking about it now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled at her then went back to his fruit and she glanced up to see Bass watching them both with a relieved expression on his face. They’d not seen each other much during the last few days and he had still clung to her as tightly at night as he ever had, but she’d noticed at meals – when Charlie and Connor had been in the same room – he’d been avoiding talking to either of them; as if he were afraid he’d be forced to pick between them.

“So,” Connor said, “I’m thinking my role in this house is definitely not laundry. That wringer thing and I have taken a violent dislike to each other. Rachel, would you mind trading me sweeping and dusting. I can help you with hanging everything up on the line after it’s wrung.”

Rachel smiled, crimping pie crusts that she was filling with some kind of custard. “That would be fine. I’m getting a little tired of it anyway so it will be a nice change. Speaking of laundry, is there anything anyone needs washed for tomorrow night?”

“I’m good,” Bass said. “Connor, did you need to borrow anything?”

“I actually washed my own clothes a few days ago and have been saving those. Your and Miles stuff fits pretty well for around the house but. . .” he smiled a little and Rachel rolled her eyes.

“Fair enough. Charlie?”

“I was just going to wear that red dress of Grandma’s with the slacks again.” She saw Connor’s puzzled look and added, “I must be taller than she was. It might have been knee length on her. It’s not on me.” Except, she realized, when she had tried on her grandmother’s other dresses, they had fallen in the right spot and Rachel was also able to wear Charlotte’s clothes and Rachel was taller than she was. “Or,” she added slowly, “my grandmother had one really short dress.” Rachel looked started, then shrugged, as if it was something she didn’t want to think about. 

If she had been asked, Charlie decided, she would have told people that Rachel had gotten her wild streak from her father, even if Gene had seemed to have settled down. But thinking back to the red dress or the white halter dress that she hadn’t even tried on, Charlie suddenly wasn’t quite as sure.

 

The walkway to the civic building was lit with torches and there were several lit barrels spread on the lawn with small groups gathered next to them, passing around glass bottles or leather canteens. Gene led their group inside and Jeremy split off as soon as they were through the doors to where Cynthia was clustered with a group of musicians on a low stage. Charlie could see a guitarist, 2 violins and someone actually had a cello but there were about half a dozen unfilled seats.

“Here,” Gene said, handing Miles the box he was carrying with two pies. “Take these for me, will you. I need to go talk to Lloyd Welliver for a minute.”

“Come on,” Rachel said. “Let’s take these over to the kitchen.” Charlie followed them, aware that Bass and Connor were behind her but their progress was slow as people kept stopping Rachel and Miles to ask about Connor. Eventually Bass took the pie box and Rachel’s cake pan.

“We’ll be here all day at this rate,” he said, handing Charlie the cake.

The main room had tables set up near the kitchen, platters of venison next to bowls of roasted potatoes and crocks of butter. There were rows of long tables and chairs where people had already started marking with coats and other items. Several rows of chairs lined an area clearly set aside for dancing. 

Charlie set the cake and pies on a table with desserts and grabbed a cookie, breaking it half and handing part of it over to Bass. She smiled at Julie who was setting out fruit cobblers – blackberry, based on the deep purple-black that oozed from the edges of the crusts. The blond girl smiled and leaned over the table. “James. Charlie, what’s this about a new cousin I keep hearing about?”

“He’s with Miles and my Mom. Do you want to come meet him?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll get the chance later.” She gestured at Charlie’s basket. “You’d better go find a table before they’re all gone.”

Bass nodded, hand on Charlie arm, and he led her over to a table that had a good view of the dancing but Charlie suspected he’d picked it based on the excellent visual of most of the room’s exits. Aaron walked over, small box in hand. “Mind in Cynthia and I join you?”

“Nope,” Charlie said, pulling plates and cutlery from her basket to mark their spots. The tables were long enough seat eight people for a side so she and Bass set the first four places at one end and Aaron put he and Cynthia across from each other next to their settings.

“Come on,” Bass said, helping her arrange napkins. “I think we could both use a drink. Aaron?”

“Thanks but no, not till Cynthia’s happy everything is running smoothly.

Bass and Charlie walked back outside and Charlie felt herself relax. The room wasn’t even a quarter filled yet but she could still feel the tension in the muscles of her neck and back. Bass pulled a flask from his jacket and handed it to her. Charlie took a pull from it and nearly choked on the burn of whatever alcohol seared her throat. “What is that?” she gasped.

Bass grinned at her then swallowed some. “Someone who has their own still in the area brews it. Not sure who. Miles got it.”

“How can you drink it?” There had been practically no taste, just heat.

He shrugged, smiling at the two nearest men who were deep in their own conversation and leaned closer to her. “Honestly, not a crowd fan.”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen you work rooms like crazy. Or with you Soldiers. You dominate everything.” Even Strausser – possible the creepiest human being she had ever been around – had faded into insignificance when Monroe walked into a room. It might have been Strausser who had been holding the gun but it had been Monroe everyone – including her – had noticed.

He shifted closer to her, raking his right hand through his hair and then dropping it to her hip. “It’s how I deal with it. When you dominate a room, you control it. And you don’t have to fear what you can control.” He took another swallow from the flask and Charlie was surprised he didn’t grimace. Whatever it was, it was still warm against her mouth but she could feel her nerves starting to numb. She took the flask back, forcing herself to take another drink. It didn’t burn as badly – she guessed her mouth was already a little numb – and she felt herself start to sway. It wasn’t that she was drunk, she realized, as she was just beginning to relax. She leaned against Bass and his arm went around her shoulder. He took another drink before tucking the flask back into his jacket.

“Is Miles drinking that too?” she asked.

“Probably. Less than I am, most likely, since he knows people will want to talk to him about his son.” She heard the edge of bitterness in his voice. “I mean, I get why this is our cover story. It makes sense. Even I’m not sure why it’s bugging me so much.” He took a deep breath and leaned over to breath against her ear. “A year ago, I wanted to be anyone other than myself. Six months ago, I was so happy I’d gotten the chance to walk away from everything. But now. . .I don’t know what changed. I don’t want to be General Monroe again but I am tired of hiding.” She moved her hand to his back and he sighed. “Sorry if I’m being an ass.”

“You’re not, Well, no more than usual.” She smiled when he grinned at her but she cut off what she was about to say when she saw several people walking towards their barrel. She recognized Lila – the woman with the goats who made soap and cheese – and she greeted her, introducing Bass as James. Lila in turn gestured at her husband their three children – twin boys and an older sister if Charlie had been guessing. The children headed towards the Civic Center but Lila and Bradley paused by the fire. Bass pulled his flask and offered it around. Lila choked on her first sip but Bradley took several drinks before passing it back over.

“So,” Bradley chuckled, “I didn’t realize Don Masterson got his still working again. That’s his moonshine. It’s about 180 proof.

“It’s awful,” Lila gasped. “Are you sure that’s his? I like his brew.”

“That’s because I normally bring you home his corn whiskey. But that’s his moonshine. Trust me.”

“So, Charlie,” Lila said. “What’s this I hear about your new cousin?” She felt Bass tense slightly against her.

“Depends on what you’ve heard.”

“Not that much,” Lila admitted. “But he’s come riding past our place a few times and Tracy’s gotten a good look at him a few times. She’s been raving about him ever since. Which would be a nice change after how she’s been raving about your Uncle since the Andovers. . .except. . . .”

“How old is she?” Bass asked and Bradley snorted.

“She’s sixteen.”

“He’s old enough to be her father,” Bass commented and Lila sighed.

“Yes, we know. But our lectures on the subject stopped being nearly as effective when you two showed up in Willoughby. Though the last few days it’s been all Connor, Connor, Connor.” Charlie saw Bass hide a smile.

“It’s annoying, Bradley commented. “But that’s kids for you, especially teenage daughters. And with so many girls getting married so young, nothing the old fashioned parents can say makes a difference. Never thought I’d hear the day I’d be called old fashioned by my daughter who is growing up without even the same conveniences my grandmother had. Apparently we are out of touch and just don’t understand the world.

“When I used that line on my mother,” Lila growled, “it was about computers and cell phones and the internet. She uses it on me about getting married and having children before she’s eighteen. Do you think you might be able to mention to your cousin that there are a few girls that are prepared to stalk him.”

“In other words, you want her to tell him to keep in his pants,” Bass commented.

Lila and Bradley both blushed but that was probably exactly what they meant, Charlie realized. “It’s just,” Bradley added quickly, “we don’t know him. He may be a perfectly nice young man. But it’s a night out, a little to drink, a dance or two. What’s the harm if a girl seems willing? Hell, she’d probably be more than willing. But she’s only 16. I know there aren’t even any laws on it anymore. But we may be ready to be grandparents but Tracy’s not ready to be a mother, even if she thinks she is.”

“Well I’m pretty sure Connor’s not ready to be a father,” Charlie commented. “Sure, I’ll mention it to him.”

“Thanks,” Lila signed. “I’d appreciate that. He seems like he’s nice but when your only daughter is 16. . .well, you do things like corner people around burn barrels about their relatives.”

“I think it’s a first for me,” Charlie said. “But since my uncle is Miles Matheson, you’d be surprised what I’ve gotten. Trust me, this was easy.”

Lila laughed and Bass held out his flask. She took another swallow, shuddering. Bradley shook his head and another couple came up to ask Lila about goats. Bass took Charlie’s hand, leading her back inside as they heard music start. It wasn’t a song Charlie recognized by Bass started grinning and he led her over to Miles. “Brings back a few memories, doesn’t it?” Bass said, glancing around. As far as Charlie could see there was no one close enough to hear them.

“Been a while. But yeah.” At Charlie’s look, Miles did a quick survey of the people and leaned closer to her. “So here we are, driving down ASR Heather in Iraq. This was our first tour and we were still in the HMMWV’s and we have this blaring on our comm speakers. He was gunning, I was TC – truck commander – and some little prick names Myers was our driver. I hated that little shit. Then all the sudden the entire road in front of us just boiled up. Must have been what, 10? 20? feet high?”

“I had dirt in my hair, even after I took a shower. I still can’t believe Myers missed it.”

“I never did like him, but he had reflexes. I used his as my driver as often as I could, even if I did have to listen to him. I thought it was the pit of hell coming to get us, which seemed appropriate, considering the song.”

“So what’s the song?”

“It’s called ‘Highway to Hell,’” Miles said. “I can’t believe I have to explain that to my own niece.”

“Oh what a fun time we’d have had corrupting you,” Bass commented, “if the blackout hadn’t happened.” 

Miles glared at him. “Okay, enough about corruption out of you. It’s bad enough you’re sleeping with her. Let me just picture a nice non-blackout world where the two of you aren’t. . .never mind, I just thought about it and now I need to go scrub my brain.” He pulled out his own flask and took a drink. Connor appeared at his shoulder and Miles handed him the flask.

“Are you all trying to get drunk?” Charlie asked but Miles shook his head.

“Nope, just taking the edge off the crowd.”

Around them people were starting to clap and Charlie turned to see Cynthia walking onto the low stage. “Good evening, everyone,” she called and was met with another round of applause. There must have been close to 250 people in the room, Charlie realized. “I like to thank everyone for coming out tonight. Now, since this is unofficially a party to celebrate Tom and Nellie getting married last week, I should make them get up and give a speech but I promised them I wouldn’t do that. But,” she gestured towards one of the tables and Charlie turned but couldn’t see past the crowd, “be sure to stop by and wish them well. I’d like to thank everyone who helped me out this together and our musicians. Now,” her voice dropped but was still audible, “George and Rose Murphy used to sing for us but they’re not with us anymore.” From the sad tone, there was no doubt that Cynthia meant Andovers. “So we’re just getting instruments. But if anyone want to come and sing, please do.” 

Cynthia gestured at the musicians who started playing a different song. Whatever it was, the first few bars were drowned out by people clapping and Bass jerked his head at Connor. “Come on, take a quick walk with me.”

Miles watched them go, finally turning back to Charlie. “He’s right. I should have been there when you were growing up. Teaching you about rock music and how to drive a stick shift. Maybe Bass and I sitting on the porch cleaning rifles when some poor kid shows up to take you on your first date. Ben and Rachel pretending to be mad at us because you’re responsible but being secretly pleased.” He glanced over to where Bass and Connor were standing, talking in low tones. Connor glanced around suddenly, eyes wide, and took a step closer to Bass as if expecting protection. “What’s that about?”

“Tracy Bentley’s seen him our riding. Apparently she’s got a crush on him?”

“That’s Lila’s daughter, isn’t it?” When Charlie nodded, Miles actually grinned. “Good. I noticed every time I went into Willoughby she happened to be in the same shop or store I was. He can deal with her for a while.”

People were starting to line up for food and Charlie grabbed her plate, Miles behind her. They chatted in line with a few of the other farmers and made their way back to the table to find Peter and Marybeth settling into places next Aaron and Cynthia. There were signs of habitation at the last four spots and Marybeth turned to smile at her. “That’s Emily, Kyle and their two children,” she said.

Charlie leaned back, chewing a bite of venison. It tasted just like the same deer meat she’d been eating for days, but the entire room had a festive air. The musicians were playing something she didn’t recognize and Miles didn’t seem to care about so she didn’t know if he had heard it before or just didn’t care about it.

Bass and Connor walked back over, Connor looking a little stunned and Miles nodded at him. “Hey, better you than me. But I’d keep my distance. Ever hear how goat farmers deal with the boys they don’t want to grow into bucks?”

Connor grimaced. “We had lots of goat farmers near Puesta del Sol. I think I’ve got the picture here.”

Charlie snickered, glancing around the room to where she saw a group of teenage girls clustered together. They didn’t seem to be paying attention to their side of the room so she decided Connor was probably safe enough. “I’ll introduce you to Julie. She’s about my age.”

“And her brothers are blacksmiths,” Miles added.

“Miles, stop being a total cock block. With all the rest of getting laid on a regular basis you should at least give him a chance.”

Connor laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners a little like Bass’ but he shook his head. “Thanks, Charlie. But I think might wait til we’re a little farther east. Besides, I’ve had more time with. . .professionals. It saves having to deal with angry fathers. Goat farmers or otherwise. Besides, Gene shouldn’t be the only person in the house not getting any.”

“I’m not sure he’d appreciate your concern,” Miles muttered, spearing a chunk of buttered potato and chewing it.

Connor grabbed his plate and headed towards the line, muttering something in Spanish that made Miles laugh. “What did he saw?”

Miles shrugged. “I only understand a few words in Spanish.”

“Yes you still laughed.”

“Okay, I knew most of those words. At least the main ones. It’s how he tied them together that made no sense. Just let it go.”

The musicians took a break to eat dinner and when they began playing again, Gene led Rachel out to dance. Miles looked a little odd, watching them walk away and he smiled over at Charlie. “You want to try it?”

Charlie had never enjoyed dancing much back in Sylvania. She’s been at the awkward age where she was neither adult nor child and while she had liked the late evenings and the fiddle music, the actual act of dancing had been limited to a few turns on the floor with Ben and trying to duck some of the guys who’d forgotten she’d made them bleed when they tried getting too familiar with their hands. But Miles was staring at her hopefully and she accepted the hand she held towards him.

The song had a medium pace and dancing with Miles, she realized, was a lot like dancing with Ben. She hadn’t expected him to know all the same loops and twirls as her father and she wanted to close her eyes and pretend her father was there. There was, however, no chance to mistake the feel of their arms. Her father had been strong – a farmer – but Miles had honed his body into a weapon. He was more wiry, edged with a nervous energy. It would have been like pairing a plow horse with a war mount, she realized, but she blinked back tears, wondering how Ben could have helped Miles if he had ever come home.

And yet she had never expected them to dance alike.

He and Gene traded off when the song ended; something faster but her grandfather kept up, even if he laughed through what she would have never known were missed steps if he hadn’t pointed them out. She was breathless by the end of the dance and was ready to go sit down but Connor was staring at her hopefully as she came back to the table and she grabbed his hand, dragging him into the other couples. The song was fortunately more moderate paced and she made sure to introduce him to a few other people his age. Julie walked off with immediately after the song ended and Charlie found herself partnered with one of the smith’s. He was not much taller than she was but his shoulders were probably bigger than her thighs but he made her laugh twice and walked her back over to her table when the dance was finished. 

Jeremy was waiting at the table with a mug of water she accepted gratefully, sucking down most of it in a series of long swallows. “You need more?” he asked and she nodded.

“Please. In a minute. What’s with you and trying to get me to drink water all the time?”

“I just believe people should stay hydrated.” He gave her an odd look she didn’t understand.

“So where’s Carissa?” She’d seen them dancing together earlier.

“She’s with Bass.”

Charlie wasn’t prepared for the flash of jealousy that shot through her. It was completely unwarranted considering that they all shared a house and she was possibly one of the safer people for him to be dancing with since if she were going to realize who he was, she’d have done it already. But it was there, nonetheless and she grimaced. It wasn’t like she even had any room to complain about him dancing with someone else since she’d been doing just that.

“Come on, skip the water,” she said, grabbing Jeremy hand and he grinned at her. She wasn’t planning on stalking them through the figures of the dance – one of the slowest they’d done yet – but Jeremy swirled her over to them and she smiled as she caught Bass’ eye over Carissa’s shoulder. He grinned back at her and Jeremy spun her around. 

“Here,” Jeremy said, stepping aside and smiling. “James, man, unhand my girl there and I’ll do the same.” Carissa laughed as Jeremy grabbed her and danced away with her. 

Charlie felt herself melt against Bass, the feel of him against her making her breath catch as he laughed. “Subtle he is not.” Except, Charlie realized, when he wanted to be.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his ear as he swayed against her. They’d danced together before when they’d been trying to get in to see Nunez – but there had been an urgency and purpose to that. This, she decided, was just about standing next to someone and offering them a tiny slice of peace and joy in the moment.

Someone was singing and she closed her eyes, letting him move her around the floor and he laughed, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead. “No going to sleep on me yet. Later.” There was promise in his words and she relaxed further. She had her family around her, they were all well and safe and she knew she would need to treasure it all the more because she knew it wasn’t going to last.

 

They went back to the table after, Bass holding her hand and looking like he wanted to find somewhere private but he settled for chatting with Cynthia while the musicians played and from time to time, someone would get up to sing.

Carissa had gone off to talk to Truman and his wife but Charlie could see the Patriot Director and his aides packing their things like they were about to leave.

“I think,” Jeremy said softly, “we need to make a spectacle of ourselves.”

“What do you mean,” Cynthia asked, her eyes widening and she glanced around the room as if afraid what Jeremy was planning. 

“Cyn, so if I wanted to sing?” Jeremy’s expression was gentle but Charlie saw the teacher wince.

“Just go up there, talk to Mitch and see if he can play it. Can you?”

“Of course I can sing. Now if I can sing well?” He turned his head to watch Truman walking towards them. “Director.”

“Captain Baker.” Truman looked a little uncertain for a moment then smiled. “Cynthia, I wanted to say thank you so much for arranging this. What a wonderful idea for the spirit of the community of Willoughby.” Cynthia’s smile seemed fixed but Charlie hoped the wooden quality of it was something she noticed only because she knew what Cynthia had been through at the hands of the Patriots. “I’m sorry I have to be leaving so soonn but I have an early meeting. Captain Bailey will be staying to assist you with anything you need and she’s been authorized to draw a squad and assist tomorrow with any clean-up that needs done.”

“Thank you, Director.” Cynthia rose. “And please extend my appreciation to your wife as well.”

“Oh, absolutely.” He grasped her hand in both of his and smiled before turning away, a pair of aides following him. Cynthia shuddered slightly as soon as they cleared the door.

“He scares me,” she said softly. “But his wife scares me even more. It’s like. . .her eyes aren’t real.”

“There may be something to that,” Miles acknowledged as Rachel walked over and seated herself next to him. “I’m kind of curious how long they’ve been married.”

“I’ll try to find that out. Okay.” Jeremy pointed between Miles and Bass. “Okay, you two are coming with me.”

“Um, rather not,” Bass said, leaning in to grab Charlie’s hand. “I know what your idea of making a spectacle of itself is. And I fail to see a good reason. In fact, there are more bad reasons than I can count about getting up next to the two of you and trying to sing.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I thought we’ve been trying to avoid bringing attention to the three of us together.”

“Mostly. But I think now is a good moment for us to begin charming the people of Willoughby with our group charisma.”

Jeremy rose, holding his hands out, beaconing and Miles rose, reluctance evident on his own face but he jerked his head towards the stage. “I think I know what he means. Come on, let’s go.”

Rachel was staring, eyes wide and lips parted. Jeremy winked at her as he passed her and Charlie watched her mother start smiling slowly, as if she knew what was coming and was horrified but fascinated at the same time.

As the song ended, Jeremy leaned down and whispered something to the guitarist who looked puzzled for a moment until one of the violinists started to hum. The guitarist listened for a moment then strummed a cord. Jeremy nodded encouragement as he started snapping his fingers and Charlie watched Miles’ eyes close, as if he had a headache and Jeremy’s voice filled the room, a surprising rich tenor.

“She keeps moy-enshando in a pretty cabinet.” Miles grimaced as if he were expecting it but Bass’ face dissolved into pure horror and he stepped away.

“Oh no. Hell no, we are not –“ Miles grabbed his arm as Bass started to step away and Jeremy started grinning.

“She said let them eat cake, just like Marie Antoinette.” Miles had started singing as well, though he was keeping his voice low.

“How do you remember this?” Bass snapped as Jeremy leaned closer to him.

“A built in remedy, for Krushav and Kennedy.” To Charlie’s surprise, Bass sang the last line with them.

“How am I remembering this?” People were starting to smile, a few in bewilderment but most of them in fond nostalgia. Bass exhaled, looking like he wanted to shoot himself but he joined in with the other two.

“She’s a Killer Queen; Gunfire and gelatin; Dynamite with a laser beam. She’s going to blow your mind. Anytime.”

“I’m not quite sure they got that line right,” Aaron muttered and Rachel shrugged.

“Give them a break, Aaron. It’s been nearly twenty years. I don’t think moy-enchando is right either. But he used to pronounce it moist-chando so it’s at least an improvement.”

Bass was starting to smile, even if it looked like he couldn’t decide if he was enjoying himself of he wanted to strangle Jeremy – probably some of both – Charlie decided. There were places that not everyone remembered words and a few spots they all three hummed but the song lasted a few minutes and they were all smiling by the time it was done. It never ceased to surprise her, Charlie decided, how the three of them so often kept their personalities repressed around each other but for those few brief minutes they’d blazed out; the physical comfort they had with each other, seeming to understand where the other person was moving, was more evident than what she’d seen in days and Jeremy patted the guitarist on the shoulder as they walked back to the table.

“What was that?” Carissa asked as Jeremy sprawled in the chair next to her and Bass took a few quick pulls from his flask.

“That,” Jeremy announced, “is a song that has been stuck in my head for a really long time. It was playing on the radio when the Blackout happened and I’ve never been able to get rid of it.”

“Real subtle there,” Gene commented and Jeremy shrugged.

“Yeah, well, only about half the room gets the joke.”

“I remember,” Rachel said, “you used to hum it when you came to visit. I finally made you write out the lyrics . . . as many as we could remember at least.”

“Yeah, and it probably got melted with Philadelphia. Or did you have a copy in Boston too?”

“There was a copy in Boston.”

Jeremy looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. “Sadly, I don’t think I can justify traveling to Boston to raid a house that who-knows who owns now just to find a copy of a Queen song that may or may not still be there. Assuming we got the lyrics right in the first place” He sounded regretful.

"You left out something about caviar and cigarettes." Aaron said. "And I think there was an invitation you can't decline in there too."

“That was humiliating,” Bass growled and Jeremy smiled at him. 

“Be nice. Or I’ll drag you back up there again and make us sing again.”

“Well,” Miles sighed, “At least you couldn’t come up with something worse than that. Though I was surprised how much of it I remembered. I think.”

“Don’t throw out the challenge, Miles,” Jeremy said, “unless you are willing to be wrong. The musician had started another song but he pitched his voice so the table could hear him. “Here we are, we’re the princes of the universe.”

Gene started laughing and Connor looked curious but Bass grabbed Charlie’s hand and pulled her up. “I know it’s not romantic but please, come dance with me so I can get as far away as him as possible.”

She followed him onto the floor and he shuddered against her. It took her a moment to realize he was laughing. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just that. . .well, that was incredibly stupid but it was kind of fun and I almost wish he’d not given me a choice about another song. Can you imagine the utter irony of Jeremy, Miles and I up there singing Princes of the Universe together.”

“I don’t get it.”

“The song. I don’t remember all of it, but something like ‘We’re the Princes of the Universe, fighting for survival. Got to be the rulers of you all.’ There’s a lot more to it, of course. But it’s bad enough all three of us were up there together, let alone singing that. Talk about telling everyone who we are.”

There had to be a reason, Charlie decided, why Jeremy had waited until after Truman had left.

“What’s he doing?” She asked and Bass shook his head.

“I’m not sure. The beautiful thing is that I’m not in charge of him any longer so I don’t have to worry about it.”

 

They didn’t get back home till nearly one in the morning. Charlie had drank enough she felt slightly dizzy and Bass half-carried her to their room. He tucked himself around her, curling her hair in his fingers. She tried to roll over twice to kiss him but he laughed at her, promising something about morning and she felt his breath on his neck as she fell asleep.

The next morning her head buzzed a little but not nearly as much as she had expected. They both slept late and didn’t get up till far later. Jeremy pounded on their door around noon, making sarcastic comments about lunch but when Bass swung a blanket around his waist and threw the door open, Jeremy shoved a tray at him with a plate of sandwiches, leaned around Bass to smirk at Charlie and then shut the door behind him.

Bass made soup for dinner and Carissa came home mid-way through it, dishing herself a bowl. She looked tired but she rose when she was finished eating. “I have to go back. Jeremy, Truman wanted to know if you were going to be able to come in with me. He’s got some questions for you.”

“Yeah, sure. Any idea what he wanted.”

Carissa grimaced. “I’m not totally sure. He’s been getting letters lately that he doesn’t let me read and he got a whole new batch of them late this afternoon.” She looked irritated and sighed. “At least I’ve been promised tomorrow off. And I am sleeping in.”

 

It was unusual for Bass to be awake before Charlie but the bed was empty and she pulled on her jeans and the first shirt she could find that was clean. It was a soft blue cotton, starting to wear out but no holes in inappropriate places, though the bottom hem was ragged. 

Bass was in the kitchen when she came back inside, hands still damp from the pump. He was frying something on the stove that didn’t smell like either venison or horsemeat and he grinned at Charlie as she came over for a hug. “You’re up early?”

“Drank too much water last night. Then Peter and Marybeth stopped by before I could come back to bed. He’d sliced his hand trying to cut a pear and so I was talking to them while Gene stitched his hand. They butchered a pig a few days ago so they brought by some of last years’ ham they’d frozen. Peter puts chunks of meat in a bucket of water in mid-winter and after they’re frozen solid he puts those into his ice-cellar. They don’t melt, even in summer.” He kissed her on the tip of the nose, then pulled a cookie-sheet out of the oven where he’d placed slices of bread and flipped them to toast the other side. “Figured I’d make everyone breakfast. It’s Carissa’s day off so we’ll all be around – though I’m not sure what time she and Jeremy will be getting up.”

“Jeremy’s up,” Baker commented, coming into the kitchen. His tone and expression were unusually bleak and Charlie looked at him a second time.

“What’s wrong?” she asked and he shook his head.

“I’m not sure the time is right. But Truman got a letter yesterday. Apparently someone named Horne is coming out from D.C. to talk to Rachel about the blackout. Carissa wouldn’t say much about him, but I get the idea that’s not a good thing.”

“Did I hear you say Horne’s coming?” Gene asked, walking across the hall from his office.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “What do you know about him?”

“Not much. He came through here about three years ago to ask me about Rachel and Ben and if I knew anything about them. I. . .he’s a little creepy.” Charlie and Jeremy looked at each and then both turned to stare at Bass and Gene shook his head. “Not like that. More of not being sure if he’s going to order you dissected. Mad scientist barely begins to describe it.”

“Great,” Bass sighed. “Sounds like Randall.”

“Well,” Gene commented. “If Horne’s coming, I would advise everyone keeping a very low profile.”

“Which is why,” Jeremy said, “we are going to have to tell Carissa. We need the info and she’s not going to give it up without her being on our side. She sounded surprised he was being sent because apparently he doesn’t travel much and only on very specific topics – like the Blackout. So it may just be he wants to talk to Rachel. . .but if so, why wait till now.”

“Could someone have found the other bodies?” Charlie asked quietly. “The ones Aaron. . .the ones Miles hid?” Best, she decided, not to use the words ‘that Aaron set on fire.’

Jeremy shook his head. “No telling. I was hoping to put this off, but if she’s not ready to accept it now, she won’t ever be. Best to get it over with.”

“What,” Gene asked slowly, “happens if she won’t accept it?”

Jeremy’s face went bleak. “Then she and I have a lovers’ quarrel and I kill her in a jealous rage and take off.” Gene looked a little sick and Charlie felt her stomach clench. She still wasn’t sure what she thought of Carissa but somehow killing her felt wrong, even if she was a Patriot. “Look,” Jeremy said. “I’ll try to avoid it. Maybe she and I can just disappear and I can leave a note that we’ve eloped or something. But at best that would buy us a day or two. We are at war here, even if it doesn’t feel like it.”

“Can’t we just go on without telling her?” Gene protested but Bass shook his head.

“We’re going to have a hard time pulling off our plans as it is. If she can help us, that’s not an asset we can give up, no matter how much we may hate the alternative if she won’t.”

“Fine,” Charlie said, feeling tears prick at her eyes that she wiped roughly. “How do we do it?”

Jeremy exhaled a very long, loud breath. “Just follow my lead.”

 

Charlie stayed to help finish breakfast, forcing herself to move though the kitchen as she had a hundred times, even though she felt sick to her stomach. Bass seemed unaffected and she watched him boil eggs, finally blurting out. “What do you think of all this?”

He turned to face her and she forced herself not to take a step away from him. “About damned time.”

He left his eggs to come over and wrap his arms around her, his voice low against her ear. “I know this is hard on you. It could be hard on all of us. But like Jeremy said, the possible payoff is too big. We can’t fight by half-measures for very long. We’ve been plotting and planning; putting together networks and gutting fish. It’s all had a purpose and we couldn’t do what we’re doing without that time, but we’ve started to stagnate and it’s time to move things along. And yes,” he kissed her on the top of the head, “part of me wishes this were real and we could do this forever. In fact,” he pulled back to kiss her on the forehead, “if you had said we weren’t going to be together after I didn’t need you for a cover, I’d be fighting to stay here longer.”

Charlie snickered, feeling him twining their fingers together. “Really?”

He grinned at her but then moved to pull the pan of bread from the oven, swearing softly at the thin plume of smoke that came from the open oven door. The bread was a few shades darker on the top side but wasn’t burnt and Bass sucked a finger that he’d apparently caught on the side of a pan. “Yes, really.”

 

They all met for breakfast, plates clattering and the noise was the general good-humored banter of eight people sitting around a single table. Gene was telling the story about stitching up Peter’s hand when Jeremy looked at Charlie and held up his plate. “Hey, Bass, pass me another egg, would you?”

Miles went dead white and even Rachel appeared startled. Gene hesitated for a moment but then continued with his story and Miles’ glare faded at the look Charlie saw Jeremy give him. Connor looked lost – as usual – and Charlie felt bad she hadn’t thought to run upstairs to brief him. But Miles and Rachel had come down the same time as Carissa – also too late to brief – and Connor had been even a few minutes behind them.

Carissa didn’t appear to have noticed anything at all.

She felt a grim satisfaction that Jeremy was using the same tactic on Miles that he had used on her, clearly expecting something of Miles. It wasn’t that Jeremy was as smart as she had first thought. But he had a very good sense of timing, and the ability to tell how people would react. 

Bass picked up the bowl of boiled eggs and passed it along the table. Jeremy took two, peeling them slowly. His face was shuttered again and Carissa was laughing at Gene’s impersonation of Marybeth telling Peter he was using the wrong knife to cut the pear. While she was turned away, Jeremy pointed one finger at Miles, keeping it low to the table, and jerked his head in Bass’ direction. Miles made a face but Jeremy glared at him and finally Miles sighed.

“I have a bunch of firewood to chop today,” Miles commented, even though Charlie was pretty sure he had no such plans. “I was wondering if you could help me, Bass, before you make lunch.”

“Yeah, sure.” This time there was no pause from Gene, though her grandfather glanced at Miles before turning back to where Rachel was clearly forcing herself to laugh at his story. Carissa showed no sign and Charlie began to wonder if she had even heard or if she had actually heard every word and was trying to decide how to alert the Patriots to have them all arrested.

The conversation limped along with Connor trying to contribute a story about his first time eating jalapeño peppers after he moved to Mexico and Carissa countering with her experiences eating fried octopus.

It wasn’t till they were finishing and Gene rose, plate in hand, saying, “Thanks, Bass, that was delicious,” that Charlie saw Carissa jerk like someone had stuck a needle in her. Her head turned slowly to stare at Gene, then over the Bass, her eyes wide.

“What did you just call him?” she asked, her voice betraying a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“He called him Bass,” Miles said, his tone calm but Charlie could hear the tension behind it. “Because that’s his name.”

Carissa stood, shoving her chair away from the table, a pistol that Charlie didn’t realize she carried in her hand pointed across the table at Monroe. Jeremy was seated between Carissa and Connor and his arm shot out to block Connor from launching past him to grab the Captain, which was clearly his goal.

Carissa’s eyes flicked around the table, her mouth hanging open, her hands shaking but not enough to throw her aim too far off at that range.

“You knew?” she yelled Charlie and if Carissa hadn’t been holding the gun, Charlie would have smiled at how much it sounded like her the day Jeremy had told her who Miles really was. Their voices weren’t similar but she decided the notes of betrayal must be universal. “You all knew.” She jerked her head just enough to look over at Connor. “Even you? Monroe killed your mother and you just let him go?”

“Actually,” Rachel’s voice was calm, more soothing than Charlie had ever heard it and she glanced over at her mother. “It was a Georgian who killed Emma. And Connor isn’t really Miles’ son. He’s Bass’.” Rachel’s face was set but her eyes betrayed her concern and she was looking at Charlie, not Monroe. The fact that her mother was worried about her, because someone was holding a gun to the person Rachel forced herself to tolerate made Charlie realize how far she and Rachel had come in the last few months.

“Sebastian Monroe,” Carissa snapped, “you are under arrest.”

Jeremy sighed, the facial movement exaggerated. “Really? I don’t think so. We called him Bass all through breakfast. If you were really intent on arresting Sebastian Monroe, you’d have caught it when I asked for more eggs?”

Carissa’s face had been pale but it suddenly flushed bright red and Charlie saw Bass spread his arms slowly, the first gesture he’d made. “ Sebastian Monroe wasn’t a particularly nice person. His own best friend tried to kill him to save the world from him. So yes, you can go ahead and pull that trigger and save everyone from the monster. But then you’ll never know.”

“Never know what?” Carissa asked, face and voice betraying her suspicion.

“Why they have me here. Why Ben and Danny Matheson’s family let me be part of them again. What Jeremy, who wasn’t lying when he said I ordered his execution, sits across the table from me. Why Charlie and I share the same bed every night. And who really bombed Atlanta and Philadelphia. Because that wasn’t me.” He shrugged, as if he didn’t care, but Charlie could read the tension in his muscles. “Or you can just kill me.”

“Dad,” Rachel’s voice was forced-calm but Charlie was pretty sure everyone could hear the strain in it. “Why don’t you put the kettle on. I have a feeling we’re in for a long talk and I know I need some tea. Carissa, you might as well put the gun down,” she added. “You won’t be needing it.”

Carissa shook her head, fear written across her face. “No, you’re all under arrest.”

“Please,” Miles said, “Look around you. There’s one of you and a whole lot more of us. And don’t think we picked your day off on accident. No one’s coming to help you. And if you’re looking to take out Miles Matheson and Sebastian Monroe on their own turf, you might try cocking the hammer and taking the damn pistol off safe.”

Carissa’s red face went scarlet and she jerked her head to look at the gun. Jeremy plucked it out of her hand and she barely seemed to notice. “They’ll kill you.” Carissa’s voice was shrill and Charlie decided she felt sorry for the Patriot.

Bass came around the table to take her plate and walk it over to the sink. It was such a normal, everyday gesture that Charlie felt her heart slam painfully. “They can try. They seem like nice enough boys, there at the garrison. I’d hate for something to happen to them.”

“Yeah,” Miles said, voice heavy with irony. “It’s a real shame when a couple dozen men get slaughtered because someone is too stupid to leave someone else alone.”

Bass shrugged. “To be fair, I was crazy at the time when I gave those orders. I also really did try to nuke Atlanta. Spent two days dropping leaflets to let the Georgians evacuate. So, why, when I did get power, would I bomb Atlanta? I was winning the damn war. And how, with only having power for four minutes, did Foster manage to nuke Philadelphia?”

Carissa looked suddenly intrigued, even if she still looked scared and Bass took a deep breath. “So, why don’t you go ahead and get comfortable. We’re going to sit around, drink tea, and he and I are going to tell you the real story of the Monroe Republic. And the blackout. And the nukes. And the burned body in the woods last week.”

It was clearly an irresistible offer for an intel officer, even if it came from Sebastian Monroe, and Carissa sat slowly. “I still don’t understand.”

“No,” Miles agreed. “But when we’re done. You will.”

 

It took them nearly six hours, starting with Miles telling about his childhood friendship with Bass then Rachel describing the project she’d been a part of and agreeing to turn it over to the DoD for a chance at saving an unborn Danny’s life. Bass, Miles and Jeremy took turns about watching the world fall apart around them and trying to do what they could to save it and how things had started going so wrong. Rachel’s face was gray as Bass talked about the search for Ben and how Captain Neville had taken Danny instead and Charlie describing Ben’s last request to find Miles. Miles covered most of the search for Danny, Maggie’s death, Danny’s death – Rachel and Charlie both cried and the Monroe Republic’s loss of power again. Bass took over to describe Randall Flynn and his promises. Bass, Miles and Connor all choked up when they talked about Jasper and Emma. Connor, Charlie realized, had heard parts of the story but not the entire build-up that had sent Bass to Jasper. At least, she reflected, by the time they were done, he would know more about what they’d really been through together.

Bass actually smacked Miles on the back of the head when Charlie told about liberating the scientist who’d been weaponizing anthrax for the Monroe Republic and Miles’ original plan of keeping him from his family to make him to the exact same thing for Georgia. Only the fact that Miles had later changed his mind and backed her against Neville seemed to cheer him and he took over, describing how paranoid and delusion he’d gotten in the last days of the Republic. Jeremy added a few anecdotes and his own escape method.

Miles, Bass, Charlie and Rachel all separately described their view of what had happened in the Tower. Bass’ was the shortest, taking less than twenty minutes before he made them sandwiches for lunch while Charlie and Miles were talking. Rachel’s was longest, much of the technical detail going over Charlie’s head but she cried again when Rachel apologized to her for not trying harder to save Nora. Rachel’s descriptions of Randall all wrapped up neatly into the bombings of Atlanta and Philadelphia and the whole Tower system had crashed minutes after and how she’d escaped into her own head, even trying to take her own life.

Charlie and Bass both took turns about their meeting at New Vegas and her attempts to kill him being foiled by the bounty hunters. Carissa looked genuinely surprised that Rachel had a warrant on her.

Carissa had looked startled when Rachel had told her Randall’s last words about being a Patriot, and she even protested when Miles started tying the Andovers to the Patriots. But she stopped when Gene told his story – about the cholera outbreak that may not have been an accident and the medications he’d been given for years in return for help interrogating people. Rachel’s description of Ken had the Patriot Captain looking miserable but not surprised. She asked a lot of questions about Miles’ meeting with Titus where he’d had his hand broken, particularly about the description of the man who had been with Titus but she didn’t explain why and Miles answered them all matter-of-factly without asking her any questions in return.

When they finished with Charlie and Bass' arrival back at Willoughby, she slumped against her chair. “If that’s a lie, that’s the best one I’ve ever heard.”

“Sure,” Bass retorted. “We spent months comparing notes to come up with hours worth of lies.”

Something of Carissa’s sense of humor seemed to have returned because she smiled and shrugged. “Maybe you’re all crazy. Or someone has lied to you.” Her tone turned serious. “When you said you could kill all the Patriots at the local garrison. Could you really have done it?”

Miles nodded. “Easy.”

“The Patriots,” Bass commented, “rely on their firepower. And don’t get me wrong, I like the guns. A lot. And the ammo. But the fact is, most of those guys have never had a real fight. It shows. They’re sloppy, you can sneak up on them, they don’t hide well and they don’t particularly seem to work well together. You can tell it from their patrol patterns. You can’t even begin to imagine the things they miss. Which means they probably wouldn’t fight well together either”

“Granted,” Miles added, “any fool can get lucky with a good shot. And a good shot to the head is all it takes to end the whole debate. But. . . .” He gestured at Bass.

“When your Soldiers marksmanship seems limited to spray and pray?”

“And your guys had some truly epic demonstrations of that when they were fighting the Andovers.”

“It’s just a matter of always making sure you’re the moving target.”

Carissa and Connor had similar looks of awe and once again Charlie was struck with the fact she wasn’t sure if they were finishing each other’s sentences or starting them. It was no doubt a play for Carissa’s benefit, she realized. Bass was the charming one. But sometimes he could be a little too charming and it was easy to realize you might not be able to tell truth from lies. Miles’ honesty was easier to take, but his bluntness also could make someone question if he really cared. Yet when the two of them were together they brought out some indefinable quality in the other that made it easy to realize how they had been able to form a militia.

“So why,” Carissa asked, “are you telling me all this? Why have me move in and tell me who he really was?”

“Easy,” Jeremy said. “The government you support is not the United States.”

“At best,” Miles added, “it’s a hollow shell of a Nation we once served. At worst, and I kind of think we’re dealing with an ‘at worse’ scenario here, they’re an outside group plotting to cuckoo their way in.”

“We’re thinking,” Jeremy continued, “that portions of the legitimate government fled to Cuba. GITMO. So there they were, sharing space with the terrorists the U.S. was once fighting against. So maybe someone got someone else’s ear. Maybe there was an escape and then they came back to ‘help.’ But somewhere the idea of preserving a legitimate government for corrupted to a system that doesn’t fight fair.”

“Create a problem,” Bass said. “Clean it up.”

“What do you mean?”

“The body.” Miles said. “The one from your patrol. Their special orders were to kill people they found wandering outside of town. It wasn't the time it had happened. They caught Aaron and Cynthia that night they came for dinner Wednesday night. Cut her throat.”

“That’s impossible,” Carissa said. “I just saw her Friday. She’s fine.”

“Check the scars.” Rachel said softly. “Next time you see her, look at her neck. We don’t know why, but the nanites sometimes interfere with something that happens when it concerns Aaron. When one of the Andovers gutted him. He. . .his heart stopped for two hours. When he’s threatened. When someone he loves is threatened. Sometimes people just burn. He doesn’t do it on purpose.”

Carissa buried her face her hands, then looked back up again. “You know this sounds crazy, right?” Her skeptical look faded. “But that does explain why Dr. Horne is on his way to Willoughby. Oh hell, those first deserters?”

“Creeped the hell out of me,” Miles said. “Them bursting into flames like that. I didn’t understand what happened. I didn’t know till the next day when Aaron come to tell me what he’d seen. He was hoping it had just been a bad dream.”

“I have to think about this,” Carissa said, rising slowly. “You understand that, right?”

“Absolutely,” Jeremy said, standing at the same time. “I’ll sleep on the floor tonight.”

“I figured you’d sleep on the couch.” When Jeremy didn’t respond she sighed. “I don’t get a choice, do I?” He shook his head. “And tomorrow?”

“I’m going in with you. Like yesterday.”

“You can’t watch me every minute,” she snapped.

“I know. But we’re counting on you being a decent human being and figuring out how bad things have gotten.”

“So you want me to turn against my own government? Do you know what that means?”

Jeremy started to laugh. “Come on, Carissa. Did you really just ask Miles Matheson about what it’s like to realize something you’ve built for the best isn’t working anymore? That it wasn’t what you planned? Maybe you want to go ahead and ask Bass Monroe what it means to be betrayed by someone close to you?” She glared at him but she also looked like she realized what he meant. “Do you really think, after Miles left, we ever imagined the three of us would be sitting together again –in freaking Texas of all places – trying to save the country. Again. From Patriots and ourselves both. We don’t want to go back to what we had, but we certainly don’t want where your people are taking us either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to MDRevolutionFan for asking for a scene where Charlie and Bass get to dance together.
> 
> When I first posted this I forgot to include the link tothe explosion that inspired Bass and Miles' IED story:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgTcIhOBbQw
> 
> This chapter also manages to finally deliver on the LONG ago promised revelation to Carissa who they really are. I expected this back around Chapter 11 or 12 but that was also before I realized I was going to write a quilting and a trip to Mexico into the story. This is the last of the original draft I had hand-written back when I first came up with this. . .before Jeremy appeared in the story and I thought it was going to be a LOT shorter than what it is now.
> 
> So for days I've been trying to think of a song that Jeremy could remember and drag Bass and Miles up to sing. It had to be something memorable but I wanted something that would be funny. Then a few days ago "Killer Queen" played on the radio and for the next few hours I couldn't get the dratted thing out of my head. I even tried singing it -- granted, I know I didn't get the lyrics correct but I realized that would be the fun part (in fact, I resisted the urge to check them on the internet till AFTER I had written the scene; moet et chandon wasn't as far off as I thought it was). 
> 
> This is a really long chapter, so I have to admit, I'm not sure I'm going to have another chapter up for a while. I have some later stuff written (leaving Willoughby) but I have to transition between here and there so not sure how long that is going to actually take. Apologies in advance if it takes longer than a week.


	29. Chapter 29

Jeremy grabbed some cushions from the sofa to take upstairs with them as soon as dinner was over. Miles watched them go and he waved his hand to bring everyone in close to him. “We need to set up a watch,” he said quietly. “On the hallway and also by the window. Just in case Jeremy was wrong.” 

Bass nodded, turning his head towards the stairs. “Should someone go grab him? So he doesn’t have to sleep in there with her?” 

Miles shook his head. “She’s got to think we’re willing to trust her if this is ever going to work.”

“Some trust,” Connor said, his tone bitter. “Besides, she knows she’s being watched. Why risk him?”

“This is his plan,” Miles admitted. “Well, actually it was mine originally. But he was the one that made it work.”

“This is crazy.” Connor’s voice was soft but he leaned forward, gesturing at Miles. “She could kill him. Please,” he glanced over at Monroe, “tell me you agree this is incredibly stupid.”

Bass, Charlie realized, had his shoulders hunched, shook his head minutely. “Connor, you have no idea how much I agree with you. But the last time I doubted him. . .I owe it to him to trust him.”

“He’s not omnipotent,” Gene said softly. “He can still be wrong.”

“Which is why we’re setting up watch shifts. Charlie, you can see their window from the window of your room, right?” 

"Yeah, if you have the window open and lean out a little."

“Good, we’ll use your room then. Someone sits at the window, someone at the door. That way you’re in sight of each other. Anything happens, wake everyone else. Charlie, you and Connor have first watch. Gene, you and Rachel are on second watch. Bass, you and I are third.

She had been expecting him to pair her with Bass, himself with Rachel; the rotation surprised her a little until she thought about it for a moment. Gene may have been upset about the idea, but he was more likely to spend a watch shift with his daughter. Despite their awkwardness during most of the week, she was the one Connor was most comfortable around.

“Bass, you and Charlie,” Miles continued, “grab your mattress and put it in Rachel and my room tonight since everyone will be using your room.” When Bass looked like he was about to protest, Miles shook his head. “Just do it. I. . .think it would be better to have us all together, not spread out in the house.”

 

Since they were in the room next to Carissa’s and Jeremy’s, she and Connor were silent through their shift. She sat at the open window while he leaned against the wall by the door. There was a chair for him but he seemed uncomfortable every time he sat in it.

She was getting ready to go wake Rachel after about three hours but she heard a door creak and instantly jumped from her spot but Connor shook his head and Rachel appeared in the doorway to her room. “Going to go wake Dad,” she whispered and Charlie nodded at her. There had been no sounds from the room next door in over an hour and she almost wished Jeremy snored so she could at least have reassurance he was still alive.

When Rachel came back with Gene, she leaned close to Charlie. “Sleep on my bed,” she whispered. Connor had already slipped and out and Charlie wanted to ask where Miles was, but Rachel was leaning out the window.

Rachel had left the door of her room open and Charlie felt her eyebrows rise as she walked in. The bed was empty but the mattress on the floor had two people – Miles and Bass. It made sense, she realized, since they were on the same shift and less likely to be disturbed or disturb their partner if they weren’t climbing in and out of bed. But she hadn’t been expecting it and she felt her breath catch. Every time she thought she knew what they meant to each other, something else happened to show her she had barely began to scratch the surface.

They were both on their backs, a different quilt over each of them. Bass’ right shoulder was over Miles’ and Miles’ left ankle was hooked over Bass’. She recognized the pattern – she and Miles had slept that way plenty of times. It allowed one person to feel if something disturbed the other. But when she was with Bass, he was always slept on the right side of the bed and the day she had rushed in with Jeremy to listen at the vents, Miles had been on the left. Yet the two of them together had switched. It made her wonder if that was what was usual for them.

She thought she had moved quietly – leaving the door open again – but the mattress creaked and Miles raised his head to glance at her. He gave her a sleepy smile when she nodded at him and his head went back onto the pillow. Bass didn’t even move.

 

Charlie woke to fingers sliding over her ear and she turned to see Bass’ seated on the bed next to her. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Morning.”

She stretched pressing her head into his hand. “Morning. What time is it?”

“About seven probably. Carissa and Jeremy just got up.”

“How is he?”

“He’s fine. We want people around so it’s not as obvious we’re following her around the house.” He kissed her again. “How’d you sleep?”

“I don’t know. It was different, sleeping alone.”

He nodded. “You have no idea how hard it was, not coming to join you when you came in. But I didn’t want to disturb you when I got back up again.”

“You were awake?”

He laughed. “Of course. Rachel getting up and you coming in? Do you think I was going to sleep through that?”

“I just thought. . . .”

He leaned in and kissed her. “What? That I prefer sleeping next to Miles? Not a chance. Like I said, he doesn’t cuddle. Now, I hate to do this but you need to get up.” She levered herself off the bed, yawning as she turned to see Rachel on the mattress on the floor, one of the quilts pulled over her head. “Come on, Rachel,” Bass said louder. “I know you’re awake. Come on, get up.”

Rachel shoved the blanket down past her shoulders, grumbling something unintelligible but she also stood. “There, fine. Happy?”

“Yes. Go find Miles or Jeremy. You too, Charlie. Please.”

Carissa was in the kitchen, a plate of toast and a cup of tea untouched on the table in front of her. Jeremy was alternating between taking sips of tea and bites of toast and smiled at her. “Hey, Charlie. How are you this morning?” Carissa glared at him but then stared down at her plate.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Cushions kept coming apart whenever I moved so I pretty much ended up sleeping on the floor. Honestly, my back hurts a little.” Carissa snorted, shoving away from the table. “You ready to go already?”

“You do know there is no way any of them are buying this and you’re going to be executed before the end of the day?” The Patriot Captain sounded almost conversational but Jeremy threw back his head, laughing. It appeared to surprise Carissa as much as it did Charlie and they both stared at him.

“When you deliver a morning report to Sebastian Monroe before he’s had his whiskey or his coffee, you learn to redefine the meaning of ‘suicidal inclinations’ so a day in the office with Ed Truman? Yeah, not so worried about it.” He shoved the last of his toast into his mouth and gulped his tea. “Damn, that was hot,” he panted and Carissa gritted her teeth.

“I can’t decide whether to ask them to pardon you or for you to be shot first.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night Hey, tell Bass I want spaghetti for dinner but I’d settle for tomatoes and venison over rice.” He leaned in and kissed Charlie on the cheek at he grabbed his jacket. He followed Carissa out of the kitchen and Charlie felt her stomach sink as she heard the door close. She turned to see Miles standing on the stairs, watching it and she felt her smile tremble.

“They’re going to kill him. Can’t we do something?”

“Yeah. Grab anything we can’t live without. We’re not staying here today.”

“We’re leaving?”

He shook his head. “Don’t underestimate him. If they come for us, yeah, we’re leaving. But for right now, we’re just going somewhere we’re out of the way. And hurry. We’ve got ten minutes.”

 

Charlie shoved a few changes of clothes in her bag, her weapons and headed back downstairs to where Gene was rushing from room to room, a satchel over his arm. “What can I help you with?” she asked and when he turned to her she was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

“Everything. Nothing. Never mind. I’ve got the stock of medications and the photos of the family. Trying to chose anything else. . .I guess there’s really no point.”

She nodded, gripping his hand and running back upstairs to check on Bass. He wasn’t in their room, but his swords and gunbelt were missing along with a few changes of his clothes and she darted into Miles and Rachel’s room. “Where’s Bass?”

“He and Connor went to get Aaron and Cynthia.” Rachel said and Charlie felt her whole body go cold as she realized she hadn’t thought of warning them. 

“It’s Monday. What excuse will they give for canceling school?” She heard herself say and wanted to kick herself for thinking of something so trivial but a small part of her realized it was also important if someone asked her later.

“Cynthia overtired herself,” Miles said, hesitating between two shirts and finally cramming one in his bag without looking. “Aaron didn’t want to leave her. Come on, we’re rendezvousing at the tree. We’ll divide up the ammo in case we need it. Charlie, grab Carissa’s rifle out of her room. I’m pretty sure she keeps it in the closet.”

“Jeremy messed with the buffer spring. It probably won’t fire.” Miles raised his eyebrows in what she thought was probably admiration but then he shrugged.

“Well, grab it anyway. We won’t shoot it but they can’t fix it if they don’t have it. Come on. Hurry.”

Charlie’s stomach felt clenched all through the jog into the woods until they found Bass, Connor, Aaron and Cynthia near the ammo-tree and Charlie didn’t know who she wanted to hug first so she ended up grabbing Aaron and Cynthia together then stretching her hands towards Connor and Bass, even if they stayed back, looking around the area like the Patriots were planning on bursting through the trees.

Cynthia nearly hyperventilated when she saw all the ammo pulled out and divided up but the amounts looked more impressive than they really were, Charlie knew. The lead balls and buckshot were for weapons that would mean more in a fixed battle and the rifle rounds were all too scarce if it came to open warfare. Miles got them spread out in sentry lines, satisfied they had interlocking fields of fire and cover for multiple escape routes before he nodded at her, Gene and Aaron. “Alright, we work in pairs today. One up, one down. Get some sleep, whatever. Trade off between you. Charlie, you’re with Connor. Gene, you’re with Rachel. Aaron, you’re with Cynthia. We’re Bravo Team. Your partner is Alpha Team and Bass will be in charge of them.”

Gene frowned. “Sorry to be asking all the questions and I know I’m not military. But isn’t your battle buddy usually in the same team you are and not taking orders from someone else?”

“That’s an excellent point,” Miles admitted. “Normally, yes. But we’re pairing by ability and we can’t stack the deck too heavily for any one team. And,” He glanced over to where Bass was having a low voiced conference with Connor, Cynthia and Rachel, “we had some interpersonal issues to overcome.”

“You mean that’s why you and Rachel and Bass and Charlie aren’t on the same teams?” Aaron asked. “But that leaves you with your niece and Bass with his son.”

“So it’s not perfect. But Charlie and I have fought together before. She’s got more practical experience than Connor but Rachel has more than Gene and. . .well, between you and Cynthia. . .honestly, you’ve seen more action but I think she’s pretty pissed right now.”

“She can’t light people on fire with her mind,” Aaron commented quietly, voice glum and Miles’ hand dropped to his shoulder. 

“That’s not something we’re asking you to do, Aaron. If you do. . .well, that’s your choice. But we’re not asking it. We’re not them.” Aaron looked relieved even though Miles looked like he was sucking on something sour. “Okay, everyone get comfortable. It’s going to be a long day.”

 

In the end, the day was completely uneventful. Miles and Bass moved out to where they could see the road and everyone else took turns napping in their positions or talking quietly, nibbling on the bread that Bass came around with sometime mid-morning.

Charlie lost track of the time and had just dozed off again after waking Connor when she heard Miles’ voice and she turned to see him jog into their perimeter.

“Okay, everyone back to the house. Keep your ammo. We may need it later.” 

The house was totally untouched, empty and quiet when they piled through the back doors and Charlie got herself seated at the kitchen table as Bass stirred up the coals in the stove and pulled out a loaf of bread.

Carissa looked irritated when she walked into the house, Jeremy trailing behind her. Charlie looked up from the table and the Patriot Captain stalked over to a chair and slumped into one. “Any chance you have hot water, General,” her tone was bitter, “because I could really use a cup of tea.”

Bass filled the kettle and put in on the stove. “Coming up. And with the Republic gone, nothing for me to be a General of anymore. Bass or James, whichever you prefer.”

Carissa rubbed her eyes with her hands. “How the hell did I miss it? No, worse. I didn’t miss it. I knew, on some level, who you were. I damn well had you arrested for it. And then I let everyone convince me I was wrong. I knew something felt off and you being Sebastian Monroe explained everything. So how did I manage to let them talk me into believing you weren’t?” She sounded more angry at herself. Jeremy walked towards her and she glared at him. He held his hands up and backed out of the kitchen, grinning.

“Fine, I get the idea. You’ve seen enough of me for a while.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “He followed me nearly everywhere today. All sweet and romantic and almost -- but not quite -- inappropriate for work. And not a damn one of them did more than smirk at me and make comments about how I’d better watch out because he was clearly working up to either leave me or asking me to marry him. Truman even said that apparently I was a better substitute for Miles Matheson than he’d expected. The raging moron patted me on the shoulder and said I was doing a great job and how he appreciated the fact that I’d managed to secure Captain Baker’s loyalties. Like I go around sleeping with people to recruit them. Baker’s always been a damn consultant with close ties to an illegal government. Sure, we offered him a commission; we’ve done the same for a dozen other high ranking Militia members. It’s to control them. There shouldn’t be a question about his loyalty. We don’t trust him.” Carissa was nearly shouting in frustration and Charlie bit her tongue hard to hide her smile. Carissa saw her and exhaled sharply. “You think this is funny?”

“Well,” Charlie said, gesturing to her feet, “not really.” Carissa leaned over and saw the rifle on the floor and looked back up. “But considering we’ve spent most of the day outside the house watching for arrest squads, it’s more of a relief to have you back without any incident.”

“Is he following me to work again tomorrow? Because I don’t know if I can take another day like today. He was breathing on my neck. All damn day. Literally.” She shook her head. “The worst part was half the time it made me want to bash his face in. Except for the times it made me want to rip his clothes off. He’s a fucking traitor.”

“I think Charlie might sympathize with you on that one. It took her a while to get used to having me around.” Charlie nodded at Bass’ words and Carissa looked at them in surprise.

“Wait, that night outside. You two hadn’t just slipped out for a. . .that wasn’t your first time, was it?”

“With each other?” Charlie nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

Carissa’s mouth gaped open. “Why?”

“Can’t really tell you that yet,” Charlie admitted. “But we needed a distraction. And your Soldiers were distracted.”

Carissa looked nauseated. “That’s awful.”

“Yes, it was. But I had been so worried for so long I was going to have to sleep with him to secure our cover story it was almost a relief to get it over with. Then we got used to each other. . .now. . .we’re kind of stuck with other.”

“So the reason I kept walking in on you two in various states of. . .like the kitchen at the quilting. That was you playing me.”

“I believe you asked,” Bass commented drily, “if we had an exhibition streak or just couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Well, every other time was the exhibition streak. Very planned. That particular day, I just couldn’t keep my hands off her.”

“All right, I get it.” Carissa pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I have a headache.” She turned and glared at them both. “And the worst part is, I’m almost beginning to think you might be right. I grabbed a set of old books from when Truman was setting up in Willoughby. I wasn’t here then. . .didn’t get here until about a week before that dinner he threw where we all met. And there was a gold allocation that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Just ‘TA.’ But it was a lot of money.

“Could TA be Titus Andover?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But when Miles described the guy that was with Titus -- the one who bashed his hand -- it sounded like Mitchell Williamson. He’s pretty high ranking – though he doesn’t really have a rank. Good at handling rough types. I. . .I saw him, the day I got here. He wasn't in uniform when we rode in -- looked like he was trying to play a local. When I was talking to the courier who was going back with messages to D.C. about an hour later he came down, all shaved and in uniform and headed out with the courses. Which means he was probably finished with his job and on to something else. But there’s another allotment coming back in dated that same day. No notations on it at all. But it’s damn near the exact same amount. Those sorts of funds shouldn’t be sliding around without explanation.”

Bass poured hot water into a teapot, adding a handful of tea. It was mix of chamomile, rose hips, mint and slices of dried peaches and Charlie sniffed at the rising steam. “You want some?”

“Yes, please.” He strained the water into three mugs and handed them around. Carissa took a slow sip, sighing deeply as she kicked off her shoes. 

“Thanks.” She glanced at Monroe, shaking her head. “How the hell did they teach you to cook so fast? Was it Gene or Rachel?”

“It was my mother. She always insisted that no son of hers was going to grow up not knowing how to do more than open a can or a cardboard tray.”

“And how did that not get out? That General Monroe could cook.”

“Because General Monroe didn’t cook. He had people for that. I’m not him anymore.”

“Is is like a split personality?”

“I only wish,” Bass commented, and Charlie cleared her throat.

“It’s more like Bass and General Monroe are different parts of the same person. Sometimes one is more dominant than the other but they’re both always there.”

“I spent a long time thinking that Bass was gone; that the General was all who was left. Then I thought, after the Tower, those bombs really had killed General Monroe. Turns out I was wrong on both counts.” Charlie felt herself frown and he turned to look at her. “What?”

“So if who I met in Philadelphia was the General, and who I see now is Bass. . .then who did I meet in New Vegas?” Because it hadn’t been the General, but it hadn’t just been Bass either.

He shrugged. “That who I am when I have lost someone. My family. Shelly and the baby. When Miles left. Even I’m not sure.” He reached out to take her hand, his face turning to Carissa and even Charlie flinched away. “That’s who I’ll be if anything ever happens to Charlie or Miles.” 

Carissa sighed. “Okay, fair enough. But what the hell am I suppose to do here. Right now I’m aiding and abetting. A traitor to my own government.”

Charlie smiled a little. “That may not be such a bad thing. Technically I was committing treason against the Monroe Republic. Its President tried to have me killed. Now look at us.” She glanced over at Bass and felt a tremor of awareness through her skin. They’d been so busy all day they’d barely touched since he’d pulled her out of bed that morning and she wondered how long it would be before they had time together again.

“Yeah, well,” Carissa’ voice was bitter, ”I’m not you, Charlie.”

The words rose unbidden about how she hadn’t been that person either even a year before but she bit her tongue before she could speak them. Some things had to be learned.

Carissa didn’t eat her sandwich and went straight to bed, Jeremy following her again and Charlie bolted the rest of her food and nodded at Connor. “Same watch shifts?” she asked and Miles nodded. “Tomorrow we’ll trade off and you two will take mid-shift but start off tonight. It’ll be shorter because we have Aaron and Cynthia here with us tonight. I. . . .” he looked around the kitchen but Connor shrugged. “Gene, if you don’t mind me staying in your room, they can have mine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Gene agreed. “I’ve got a cot you can use. I’ll set it up for you.”

 

She and Connor had just gotten settled when she started hearing the sounds from Jeremy’s room – a thump and scuffle; fabric rustling and she jumped up from her place at the window, running the short stretch of hallway, Connor behind her. She could feel the familiar nausea she always had at the start of a fight – the one that scared her because it was healthy to feel but it always went away when the killing started and that scared her more.

She shoved the door open, immediately sighting her pistol towards the window but Carissa was still on the bed and Patriot Captain shrieked, pulling the sheet up. Charlie was only vaguely aware Carissa was topless and she swung her pistol to cover Carissa but Jeremy half-sat up, adjusting blankets and glaring at her.

“What the hell, Charlie?” Carissa shouted. “Did you ever hear of knocking?” She glanced at the gun and then Connor and groaned. “What’s going on?”

Jeremy exhaled, eyebrows going up at the same time he moved a hand to his mouth that Charlie was pretty sure was hiding a smile. He was also shirtless, Charlie realized and she felt herself start to blush.

“Um, I heard. . . .” She trailed off as Jeremy smiled at her.

“Noises? Yeah, probably.”

Carissa went bright scarlet and she shoved at Jeremy’s shoulder. “Stop laughing, asshole. This isn’t funny.” She shifted her attention to Charlie but didn’t seem to be able to meet her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I needed to blow off some steam.”

Charlie lowered her pistol and tucked it into her waistband. “Hey, not judging here. Now that I know you’re not strangling him in his sleep. . . .”

Carissa covered her eyes with her hands and groaned. “I am so not having this conversation right now.”

Charlie backed out, closing the door and she leaned her forehead against the wall next to the doorframe and tried to not give into the urge to smack her head sharply against the wall. She heard Bass and Miles behind her in the doorway and Rachel and Cynthia behind them, Connor talking to them. Bass started laughing and she turned to see Miles slap him on the forehead and Bass laughed more, shoving his forearm over his mouth to muffle the sounds.

“Alright,” Miles said quietly. “Charlie, Connor, back to your shift. Bass, go to bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She wasn’t prepared for the flash of emotion at his words, the frustrated possessiveness that felt like it was smothering her. She glanced over at Rachel and saw her mother wearing what was probably a similar frown. It wasn’t, she decided, that she was jealous as much as she was envious. She’d gotten so used to having him at her back it felt odd to give him up, even if it was to Miles. Everyone was starting to drift back to their rooms, Connor looking at her expectantly as he stood in the doorway to her and Bass’ room. Bass and Miles were already turning away.

It was his detachment that was irritating her, she realized. He was looking at her like just another chess piece to move and do what it was told to further the cause. It was a good thing, she decided, tactically. He needed to be able to make hard decisions and not take her into special account since everyone under his and Miles’ command meant something to them both. But there was also a point he needed to remember this was different. She stepped past Miles, ignoring his raised eyebrow and touched Bass on the arm. He turned to her, frowning in what appeared to be more surprise than annoyance and she pressed against him, arms going around his back. She saw the flash of his smile before he bent his head to kiss her. It was a long kiss, not particularly passionate – it was impossible to forget the audience – but she felt one of his hands cup the back of her neck and the other palm splay against the small of her back.

“Um, Charlie,” Miles said softly. “You about done? Because much as I hate to interrupt this -- which actually means I really want to – we have work to do.”

She stepped back slowly and he gripped her hand as she turned to shrug at Miles. “Just wanted to make sure he was thinking of me.”

“Oh,” Bass’ voice was rough and he squeezed her fingers before he also moved away from her. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

Miles dropped his head into his palms and when he lifted it again he was wearing his exaggerated glare that always made her smile. “I didn’t need to know that.” He glanced over at Bass and rolled his eyes. “You are sleeping on the floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add the link to the video that I imagined being similar to what Miles and Bass were talking about in the last chapter. I'll go ahead and add it into last chapter's notes as well but here it is for anyone who has already read the last chapter. Hopefully whoever had this happen to them doesn't mind me borrowing it. . .but then again, they did put it on youtube.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GgTcIhOBbQw
> 
>  
> 
> The newest non-canon after last night is Jason is already written into my epilogue and I don't think even his death in last night's episode is going to change that. I was sorry to see the character die but it also wasn't unexpected, particularly as it has the possibility to totally change Tom. I wonder if he sees the irony that Charlie was the one to kill his son -- someone she actually liked and trusted -- since he actually has a closer link to the death of her father and brother than Bass did (he was the Commander of the unit that came to her village and he called in the airstrike where Danny died). Got to love a show where they kill regular characters, well, regularly. That's fine, since Cynthia is also in my epilogue as well. 
> 
> Once again I do know where I want to go next. . .but I'm not quite sure how to get there. It is going to involve Horn showing up and a new war clan (not Duncan's) created by the Patriots. It will be headed by a very familiar figure or at least a familiar name. Okay, spoiler alert so quit reading if you don't want to know what's coming. 
> 
> The Patriots clear out of Willoughby on Texas orders and decide the best way to a permanent alliance (since Carver and Truman didn't get their press-bonding moment over Bass' body and all Carver's doing is tolerating them) is to give them a common enemy with Texas. So a new threat of "Sebastian Monroe and the Monroe Militia" show up to do some damage. Actually, their other mission is to kill Miles and Jeremy (who can ID fake Monroe as just a fake) and grab Rachel for Horn, who still hasn't figured out Aaron is the one controlling the nanites. Needless to say, the real Monroe does not take having someone claim to be him well, especially when he gets a glimpse of the new Monroe's left forearm. He may have burned off his tattoo but that doesn't mean he takes the symbol lightly, particularly not with it being branded onto his lover's wrist. Yes, the fake guy gets to keep his arm but it's touch and go there for a minute.
> 
> I have part of this written but still need to transition to it and I can't guarantee that will come quickly. Right now that seems to be the "what's next" but then again, I tried to write them telling Carissa who they were back about Chapter 10 and it kept getting pushed off till it finally ended up in Chapter 28.


	30. Chapter 30

The next day was a repeat of watching the house and woods until Jeremy and Carissa arrived home that evening. Miles reluctantly gave Cynthia and Aaron permission to go back home so they could reopen the school in the morning. He clearly disliked the idea of splitting them up but Cynthia argued something was more likely to tip the Patriots off that something was wrong if they checked and found her and Aaron gone.

Aaron and Cynthia, Charlie thought, almost smiling at the irony, were probably the safest being on their own of any of them. She was a little startled to hear Cynthia calling Bass James as she was saying goodbye and she wondered if no one had actually explained who he really was. Connor split off to go get a bath while Charlie followed Bass in to help him with dinner.

The Patriot Captain looked even more drained as she walked into the kitchen, slapping a folded piece of paper onto the counter. “I really hate that you may be right,” she snapped at Miles. “But this is a copy of a requisition order.”

Miles took the paper from her and then raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what this means.”

“About six years ago the Patriots experimented with behavior conditioning. We didn’t have a lot of Soldiers so the argument was that we needed to make sure those we had were truly loyal. Needless to say, the results on the first group were not popular when families started getting back children that weren’t the same people. They revamped the program for a more gentle approach –loyalty training instead of complete re-education.” She pointed at the piece of paper. “That list. . .the items on it match the training items required for complete re-education.”

“How do you know?” Gene asked, leaning against the wall.

“I’m presuming Charlie’s already told you who my father is?”

“The President’s secretary? Yeah, I told them,” Charlie said and Carissa nodded.

“Who do you think was the one actually carrying out the practical orders on putting together a re-education camp. I know they’ve been using them in parts of Savannah but they were supposed to be revamped to not have the devastating personality effects. But these things; barrels, chains, some of these plant compounds. They’re. . .it’s an older style camp and it’s being set up here in Texas.

They’d shared their encounter with the Patriot patrol when they explained everything else and Carissa hadn’t really said anything about it but she glanced at Charlie. “So your run-in, on the way home, that does sound more plausible if they have a reason to be recruiting. This,” she dropped her head into her hands, “isn’t supposed to happen. We’re supposed to be here to help people, not turn them into psychopaths that can’t even recognize their own family.”

“I can actually sympathize,’ Bass said slowly. “When it comes to starting something for the best of intentions and everything going to wrong.” He swallowed. “And that’s why we had to tell you. Because I kept getting more and more caught up in the Republic I totally forgot what we were fighting for in the first place.”

Carissa laughed but there was an edge of panic to it and Charlie reached out to take her hand. “Great, thanks. I always wanted to be compared with Sebastian Monroe. Is this how I know we’ve lost moral high ground here? That you’re the one really trying to help?”

“I was always trying to help. My methods were just bad and I went crazy.” Rachel snorted and he shrugged, smiling at her in what looked like apology.

“Okay, fine Fuck it, I’m in.” Carissa scrubbed her hand roughly across her cheek. “I think we’re probably all going to end up facing a firing squad but I --if they’re really doing what I think they may be –I can’t be part of it.” A few more tears slid slowly down her cheek but she ignored them.

Jeremy smiled. “Okay. I’ll move my stuff into the attic tonight.” His eyebrows rose when Carissa shook her head. 

“I’d rather you not do that.” She exhaled. “Maybe later. Not yet.” Jeremy’s hands went to her shoulders, gently working at her muscles and she sighed. “Not very subtle, Baker.” He laughed. “Now, my real questions is, you still trailing after me tomorrow?”

“I’d like to go in with you, yes. I think there’s a lot of information I’d like to get but l’ll leave that for you to decide.”

She shrugged. “Might as well continue the party. Sure.” She looked at the bread Bass was slicing “Sandwiches again?”

“Yeah, well, we’ve not been around to do many things in the house the last few days.” Bass commented. “If it’s any consolation, I’m running out of clean socks.”

“Well,” Carissa shrugged, “you’ll have tomorrow.” She glanced between Bass, Miles and Jeremy. “Or do you still not trust me yet.”

Jeremy leaned over to kiss her on the top of her head. “You’re here and alive, aren’t you? That should mean something. But no, this little domestic party may have to wait a few more days. Waiting where your adversary knows exactly where to find you. . .we’re not totally inept.”

“Fair enough. But why are you the one following me around, so far from backup?” Jeremy bleated something that sounded like a dying sheep and she nodded. “Got it. Sacrifice. You draw the short straw?”

“It would have looked really funny if Bass or Miles would have been the one following you like a lovesick puppy. Still, we’ll probably be back to letting everyone play house soon enough.”

Carissa shook her head. “I thought it was weird before I found out the truth. Now it’s just bizarre. I mean, how many people can say General Sebastian Monroe made them dinner? So how the heck did you all end up picking your household chores anyway?”

“It’s not quite as formal as all that,” Rachel countered. “There’s things we all pitch in with.”

“Because I make terrible bread,” Bass commented. “And she draws the line at washing my underwear.”

“You never wear any,” Charlie pointed out.

“See, just doing my part.”

“You concern for my sensibilities would be touching,” Rachel said, her voice dry, “if you hadn’t free-balled it for the better part of three decades.”

Miles laughed but Gene groaned, “Rachel, please. It’s bad enough knowing Charlie is sleeping with him. Hearing you talking about his balls is just a little more than I can stomach.”

It was the sudden wariness in Jeremy’s eyes and the way Rachel and Bass were looking everywhere else but each other that made Charlie feel like she was about to be sick. She tried to take a deep breath but she heard her own voice –higher than normal – saying “What aren’t you guys telling me?” before she even aware she had spoken.

“Nothing.” Bass said, his voice clearly asking her to drop it but Miles was staring between the two of them, face twisting.

“It’s not nothing, Bass. We can all see that. She was your prisoner for a decade.”

“Nine years.” Bass sounded tired, his eyes closed and Charlie felt choking knots closing the inside of her throat. “Isn’t this a few months late to be having this conversation, Miles?”

“So in all that time you never did anything but ask her about Ben and the power?”

Rachel’s voice was soft. “He never raped me.”

“Rape isn’t the same as sex,” Miles snapped.

Carissa, Charlie noticed, hadn’t moved in her chair other than her eyes shifting between them. This was probably a terrible time and place but Charlie realized she didn’t care and she wasn’t so sure Miles did either.

Rachel turned, glaring at Miles. “You want to hear I tried to seduce him? Fine, you’re hearing it.” Charlie was suddenly glad she hadn’t eaten anything yet, because she was pretty sure she’d have thrown it up. Bass had turned away from them, shoulders drawn up and every muscle in his back showing tension, even through his shirt. “I’d heard the rumors. You were gone and not coming back and I thought I might be able to influence him.”

Miles face looked, Charlie decided, probably like she felt. “And neither of you thought to mention this till now?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Miles,” Rachel snapped. “Unless you’re going to tell me you stayed faithful to me the whole time we were apart. Maybe say that you and Nora were never together, even after you found out I was alive? No, I didn’t think so. Sometimes we do what we have to when we’re trying to survive.”

Charlie felt the tears starting to fall and she whispered to his back. “Funny, for once I thought this was about me.”

Bass glanced over his shoulder, his face just looking tired. “You know that wasn’t how it started, Charlie.”

Charlie levered herself out of her chair, not sure if she wanted to go upstairs or just start walking – this time not actually bothering to come back – but Rachel stepped in front of her. It was the most apologetic look she’d ever seen on Rachel’s face and she hesitated as Rachel held out a hand towards her. “He saw through me. Knew what I was trying to do.”

Charlie saw Miles glance between Bass and Rachel, head tilted slightly. “Are you saying you two didn’t sleep together?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Rachel confirmed and Miles frowned again.

“Why not?”

Bass exhaled something that sounded like a groan and snort and Gene finally looked like he wasn’t about to throw up. Charlie wasn’t so sure about herself yet.

“Because she was yours and I knew that was something you’d never forgive me for. I’d already betrayed you once with Emma – didn’t know you already knew about that – and I wanted to be able to have something for you when you came back. Besides,” he added, his voice going softer. “I know what I’m like when I care about someone. It makes me venerable.” He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “But. . .I didn’t say no right away either.”

Jeremy sighed, dropping his head into his hand. “Really? This may be a really terrible time for this.”

“You think?” Charlie glanced at him and realized Bass wasn’t talking to Miles as he continued. “I was trying to punish Rachel. For not telling me about Ben and the power. For doing whatever she did to Miles. For how damn superior she always seemed.”

That, Charlie realized, she could actually almost sympathize with. Later. “So how long did it take you to say no?”

“In terms of time. . .not completely sure. But. . . .” He took a deep breath. “My shirt came off. My pants didn’t.”

“And her?”

Rachel’s voice was gentle. “Same. Bra stayed on,” she added.

Bass nodded. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m not excusing it, but you knew I wasn’t a saint.”

“There’s a lot of ground between sainthood and nearly sleeping with my mother.”

“I just didn’t see a good way to bring it up in any of our conversations. Ever. Just like you’ve never actually told me you had sex with Tom Neville’s son but we both know you have.”

She thought of those few weeks in Atlanta, she and Jason both recovering from the drone strike on the rebel camp before Sanborne had rolled into town with Nora. They’d both been pretty badly injured but they’d been lucky to be alive and for the space of those brief weeks they’d actually trusted each other. She’d always known he’d cared for her but that had been the period of time she thought she was falling in love with him. Before she’d driven him away on the way to the Tower.

The anger drained out of Miles face and Gene sighed, glancing at Carissa. “Family. Sometimes the drama gets a little. . . .”

“Stupid,” Jeremy supplied the word and Gene nodded.

“So I see. Well, fascinating as this is, it does make me begin to wonder about your plans. Because if this causes a rift that –“

“Hardly” Bass interrupted. “We’ll all be pissed at each other for a few days and then we’ll be over it. Compared to everything else we’ve been through? I don’t really think so.”

Charlie forced herself to walk over to him and link their fingers together. He glanced down at her but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Anything else you’re keeping from me?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Probably. But nothings coming to mind yet.” They were definitely going to talk about this, Charlie decided. But now was the time to be spending convincing Carissa this didn’t affect anything.

“That’s the problem,” she said, smiling at the Patriot Captain, “with being with someone who has known your family before you were born. Sometimes you step into family history that you weren’t ready to deal with.”

Rachel glanced at her and Charlie nodded, not surprised when Rachel grabbed Miles’ hand and dragged him out the back door. Clearly, they weren’t waiting to have their argument. Bass watched them go then headed upstairs without saying anything, Jeremy following him. Gene smiled at them both then turned and headed for his surgery.

Carissa looked a little startled, then snorted. “Well, they all cleared out fast.”

“I think they all needed to have a little time to think.” She could use it herself, Charlie decided, but she wasn’t going to get it.”

“So how does this affect the two of you?”

“It doesn’t.” Charlie grabbed a slice of bread and nibbled on it. The dryness was actually soothing. “Bass and my relationship has always been complicated. This doesn’t change it. But if I can’t forgive him, then I can’t forgive Miles or Mom or myself.”

“Do you love him?”

“You know a lot of people have been asking me that lately. I need him.”

“That’s not the same thing.” Carissa leaned forward a little and Charlie suddenly understood the question. Carissa could have cared less if Bass had slept with Rachel, Charlie, Miles or Jeremy. What she cared about was making sure she wasn’t allying herself to a group on the verge of fracturing.

“Part of my feels like if I admit that, I’m betraying my brother and my father. Forgiving is not the same as forgetting. But I meant it when I said I need him and that’s not changing soon. Not even for this.” She took a deep breath. “And I can understand why he did it. I guess. . .I think part of me always kind of figured he had raped her sometime during the time he’d had her prisoner. But the fact that he didn’t. . .explains some of her resentment.”

“Not raping someone doesn’t usually piss them off,” Carissa said and Charlie shrugged.

“That's not what I mean. But Mom. . .doesn’t think like normal people. What he did by not letting her seduce him. . .rape is the ultimate act of domination over someone's body.” She shuddered at the memory of the bar in Pottsboro. “For you and I, probably the ultimate loss of control. For Mom, it’s different. She is so caught up in her head that she don’t care what happens to her body. But for her to make a plan and have him throw it in her face? That’s her loss of control.”

“You’re taking this well.” Carissa sounded suspicious.

“Compared to finding out my Uncle was a co-founder of the Monroe Republic? That my parents helped cause the blackout? That my mother was alive a decade after I though she’d died? That she and Miles had an affair before I was born and are back together again? Do I need to go on?”

Carissa shook her head. “Okay, I get it. You people are a little abnormal.”

“Yeah, we are. And granted, we barely know how to communicate with each other. But we still have each other and that’s the most important. We learned that a really long time ago. Compared to that, a little necking a few years ago? Not really that important.” It actually was to her, she realized. But Carissa didn't need to know that.

Bass came back downstairs to finish dinner and everyone eventually drifted back into the kitchen. Charlie could still see the tension lines around Miles’ eyes and mouth but he actually took the time to banter with Bass about the fact Bass put jam on his sandwich, even if he just had roast and cheese on everyone else’s.

“What’s wrong with jam?” Bass asked. “I mean, people glaze ham all the time. I don't see that different with glazing venison?”

“It’s meant to have gravy or garlic. Maybe even cheese. But not jam.”

Bass shrugged. “So you say. But you don’t like coconut so your taste buds are automatically suspect.”

“There’s nothing wrong with not liking coconut. And considering the state of the world right now, I’m probably better off. After all, when was the last time you had any?”

“You have no idea how many hours I spent daydreaming about finding an excuse for mounting some kind of expedition to somewhere tropical so I could get coconuts. But I could never come up with a justification.”

“The coconut campaign?” Jeremy quipped and all three men chucked. “You never know, you did convince us to drag that stupid-ass desk of yours around whenever you were in the field.”

I liked my desk,” Bass protested and Miles groaned.

“The desk. The screens. The whiskey decanters. And my least favorite, that stupid faux-Japanese vase.”

“Hey, those were antiques.”

Miles and Jeremy looked at each other and Jeremy grinned first. “Do you want to tell him or can I?”

“Be my guest.” 

“Tell me what?” Bass sat up, glancing between the two men.

“The stuff in Independence Hall were antiques. Everything else we took to the field with you? Well, we found a warehouse for one of those overpriced, over-sized furniture chains.” Jeremy was grinning like a lunatic and even Miles was smiling.

Bass looked started, then shrugged. “Well, I guess it was pretty good stuff then. Or,” he added wryly, “I was just a lot bigger hick than I thought I was.”

“Not answering that one,” Miles said hastily and Jeremy covered his mouth with his hand. “But the point is, Bass, if we’d lug all that around for you, we’d probably have found somewhere with coconuts if that was what you wanted.”

“So,” Bass smiled, “does it mean I was healthier than I thought because I never tried to take advantage of that?”

“Yeah, don’t push your luck.”

 

Miles had planned on switching watch shifts so Rachel and Gene didn’t have an interrupted night sleep but Gene overruled him and Connor and Charlie took first watch again. This time they both rolled their eyes at the noises coming from the next room and focused on the hallway and the window. Carissa, Charlie decided, was smart enough to know trying to kill Jeremy in the night and escaping was a really bad plan but she still wasn’t sure what would happen the next day when Cynthia and Aaron were alone at the school.

Bass, she was not surprised to discover, had found excuses to either be washing dishes or talking with Miles until she’d followed Jeremy and Carissa up to their room. She glanced over at the empty bed frame and tried not to sigh. She was guessing that no one had thought to share the little tidbit of news with Connor about his father and her mother. It was so much less than she had imagined once that General Monroe had done to her mother, but it was a startling reminder that there were parts of the past she barely knew about.

She was madder, she realized, that he hadn’t talked to her about it than anything. There had been plenty of people he could have stuck with the dishes and taken a walk with her. She would not cry, she told herself firmly glancing at the bed. It was just that being around him without really being with him was confusing.

 

Jeremy went to work with Carissa again at her request and Miles led them to a position where they could observe the school. It had a better view of the schoolhouse and Patriot headquarters building but Charlie felt edgy until Carissa and Jeremy came out that evening, walking home with their hands linked together before Miles gave them the order to fall back.

Bass had avoided her most of the day – but then again he’d been avoiding Rachel and Gene too. Connor glanced between them on the walk back where Bass was deep in conversation with Miles “Did you two have a fight?”

“Sort of. Not really. Ask Jeremy. Or Miles. Hell, ask anyone other than my mother.” Rachel had been avoiding her to, she realized. Except that Rachel was just more subtle about it than Bass was.

“You just figure out they’d slept together?” At Charlie’s look he shrugged. “At least I’d figured they had sometime.”

“It’s a little more complicated,” she said, trying not to snap and he shrugged one shoulder. 

“Like what? They get married? Have a kid together?” He started to laugh. “Sorry. I just remember what a shock it was to me. I can only imagine what it would be like for you if you found out that. . . .” He’d earned the right to tease her, she told herself firmly. And smacking him upside the head wasn’t going to help, even if he was the Monroe she wanted to hit. “That wasn’t it, was it?” She waited until his mouth fell open in shock before shaking her head. 

“No. You know what, go ask your Dad about it. Get him to tell you.”

 

Carissa came back into the kitchen after dinner. Bass was still doing dishes, Rachel seated talking quietly to Miles, and Charlie just hadn’t mustered enough energy to stand. Carissa flipped a chair around from the table and straddled, facing the center of the room. “All right, I’m in. Officially. I’m about at the limit of things I can poke around in and not get caught but what I can find is creeping me out.”

Miles sighed in relief. “Glad to hear that. Though you do know we’re still not telling you our plans yet.”

“Makes sense. You have to trust I’m not lying and planning on ratting you all out. Truthfully, I thought the same yesterday but I wanted to see what finding out about the little Rachel-Sebastian tidbit was going to do to you all. But I can’t see much change so I’m guessing it’s not really going to have any permanent affect on the dynamic.”

Though, Charlie decided bleakly, if Sebastian Monroe thought he could ignore her for a full day because he didn’t want to talk about something that had happened years ago, he might be in for a few shifts in the dynamic. Except, and she swallowed against the knot that was forming, she was doing it again; waiting for him to determine what was going on between them. She had promised herself -- the day he had tucked her into bed with cramps and she’d gotten up to talk with Miles because it was easier than fighting with him -– that she was going to actually talk to him when something was bothering her rather than assuming he knew what she was thinking.

“That’s old news,” Miles yawned. “So, tell me about Mrs. Truman.”

Carissa’s eyebrows went up and a smile curved at her lips. “Major Kensington? She’s counter intelligence. I’m all about what you have that we want to know. Her goal is determining what the Patriots have they don’t want anyone else to know. And – here’s where it’s sticky for me – who’s telling those secrets.”

“Been having a problem with that?”

Carissa shrugged. “She came out here with me. However, counter-intel people make VERY clear to us mere intel people they are a different breed and that we are NOT colleagues. Her orders were because of those first two Soldiers who disappeared. The ones that – to hear told – Aaron crisped in a train yard. Wife was just a good cover. And by cover I mean she’s hiding from Patriots as well as everyone else. Story has it they fell in love just before he left Cuba and they got married but didn’t bother to tell anyone until recently. Since most people think she’s just intel, they bought it. They figure she’s spying for Patriots not that she’s spying on them.”

“And you know this why?” Gene asked.

“She and I have shared barracks before. She’s a real bitch too. Fucking compulsive hand washer is the term one of our other roommates used. I was really glad when she decided to share a room with Truman and didn’t move into the barracks. Her father was the President’s Chief of Staff until he died of a heart attack last month. She and Secretary Allenford’s son, Max went into the first re-education camp and came out. . .totally different people than before - though to be fair, I didn't like her much before either. They told us the camps they were setting up in Georgia were supposed to help with the overcrowding around Savannah. Turn useless mouths into Soldiers. I understood that. I mean hell, we had a noble mission here. Not that they were doing this again.” Her voice cracked and she exhaled. “They swore they’d never do the same level of training again. Not after. . . .”

“Who was it for you?” Gene asked and when she looked at him Charlie could see the tears glinting in her eyes.

“My sister, Beth. She. . .can’t even leave Cuba. Can barely leave her cell. Seems to do fine, sometimes for days. Then you’re just talking to her and suddenly she’s got her hands wrapped around your throat and you never even saw her move.” Carissa wiped at her eyes. “After Beth, Dad asked if I could be left out of any of the programs – even the ones that don’t seem to really chance people. Because we still don’t know how things went so wrong with Beth. I should have never been able to commission without it. But President Davis signed the exceptions for me. Now I see why they were requirements. If people were really thinking straight, how could they start doing this again?”

Rachel leaned over and patted Carissa on the hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I.” The Patriot Captain looked up and smiled between Bass, Miles and Jeremy. “So, if I promise to be extra, extra good and not betray you to Truman, can you all just stay home tomorrow and I get something other than sandwiches for dinner? I’m getting tired of them.”

“No promises,” Miles said, rising from his chair. “But maybe. Sorry if it seems like we don’t trust you. It’s just that. . . .”

“That you don’t trust me. Okay, fine. I get it.” She stood and stretched. “After all, I’m not the one losing sleep for it.”

Charlie trudged up the stairs after Carissa – Jeremy and Connor at their heels. She smiled at Carissa as the other woman went to open her bedroom door and Carissa returned it. “Have a good night, Charlie. I mean, when you do finally get to sleep.” 

Carissa smiled wryly and Charlie felt her own lips turn up for a moment before she leaned in slightly. “Sorry about your sister.”

Carissa grimaced, smile fading. “Yeah, well, so am I.” After a moment she asked. “Does revenge help?”

“The actual fighting? No. It feels good at the time but once it’s over, it’s like you have to do twice as much the next time to feel like you’ve made a difference. But knowing the same thing isn’t happening to someone else just like you? Yeah, that part does feel good.”

She settled into her seat at the window while Connor adjusted the chair by the door when she heard Bass’ footsteps in the hall but they continued past Miles’ room and he appeared in the doorway. His face was totally blank and he didn’t even look at her. She tried to blank her own face out when he moved in front of Connor but then he tilted his head towards the door.

“Sorry, Kid, pre-empting you here. You’re on third shift with Miles. And sleep in his room tonight.”

Charlie felt her eyebrows rise even before Connor snorted. “You have sex on my bed, you’re washing my sheets before I sleep in it again.”

Bass almost laughed and Charlie saw him glance at her in the fading light before he nodded at Connor. “She’s pissed at me enough I’m not sure you have to worry about that. But if she forgives me, deal.”

Connor looked back and forth between them, smiling slightly. “She damn well better forgive you. I have a sibling promised out of the this deal.” But he turned to Charlie and waited for her to nod before he stood and walked down the hallway. Bass sat, twisting his shoulders against the back of the chair.

“I really hate doing this with you all the way over there and me over here so just know to begin with if it weren’t for doing our jobs, I’d at least be groveling at your feet if I could.”

That surprised a slight smile out of her and she sighed. “As you said, it was a really long time ago, before we were ever together and there really hasn’t been a good time to bring it up; much like my having slept with Jason Neville.” He winced.

“But you’ve still been mad at me.”

“For that? A little. For not talking to me about it for a full day? A little more. But I’m an adult. I am able to come have a conversation, even when you’re trying to avoid me. So I guess that’s on me too.” She could hear the annoyance in her voice and made sure she kept it low. Carissa knew she was still being monitored but there was no point in either rubbing it in too much or giving them a performance.

“Do you want to know why I didn’t want to talk about it?”

She sighed, trying to let go of her anger since she realized she was just as guilty at avoidance as he was. “Sure.”

“Remember when I told you there wasn’t anything else that came to mind that I was keeping from you?” When she nodded, he swallowed, looking like he was going to be sick. “Well, I lied about that too. And this, well, let’s just say it’s a lot more recent history than what happened with your Mom.”

“What is it?” She could feel the tears starting to prick at her eyes.

“That bar. In Pottsboro.”

She was going to throw up, she realized. Possibly everything she had ever eaten in her entire life. She couldn’t even nod as the memory of her body failing her rushed through her memory. The sight of him in the doorway, knowing she had been safe. The relief, knowing her attackers were dying for messing with her. “You set that up?” she whispered, feeling her stomach already starting to twist.

His head jerked up, eyes wide. “No.” he gasped with enough shock that she believed him and the roaring rush in her head started to fade. “You were set up, yes. But not by me.”

“Adam?” It made sense, in retrospect. She’d been a little surprised he hadn’t kept trying to collect on his six ounces of diamonds.

“He was tracking you, hoping you’d lead me to him. I was tracking him, hoping he’d lead me to you. There’s an irony there, I think. I lost him about half day west of Pottsboro but that was okay, because I’d picked up your trail by then. Stumbled on him by accident; not too long before you were drugged. He told me what he’d done and said I had to come with him or he’d just leave you there for those guys. They weren’t supposed to rape you, he said, but if he didn’t come through with the other half of the payment, they’d take it out in you instead.”

“What happened to him?”

I left him alive when I went looking for you. I was really proud of myself for remembering that, in case I needed him after all.”

“And after?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but she realized she had to know.

“You were out for a full day. So we swung back by where I’d left him. I. . .thought about letting him go. But then I remember how you’d looked, trying to hold yourself up on that stove. I made it quick.”

She’d liked Adam, who didn’t like killing unless he had to. He’d had a nice smile – and a nice butt, she admitted – and he’d even made her laugh a few times. He really had succeeded in charming her, but she wondered how much of it had been an act – as much a lie as the story about his father – to get him the bounty he’d been going for. 

She heard herself exhale slowly. “Why’d you wait so long to tell me that?”

“Because saving you was the only thing I had going for me for a really long time.”

“So you saved me from thugs who took money but would have raped me if they hadn’t been paid instead of thugs that were just planning on raping me right away. It may have been a little less random, but it was real.”

“But he was using you to get me. You wouldn’t have been in that situation if I hadn’t been there.”

“You’re assuming he didn’t know exactly who I was and was planning to go after Rachel through me next.”

Bass looked thoughtful. “That was a question I didn’t ask. I. . .didn’t ask a lot after I found out what he was planning other than where and when. And after I got back with you. . .well, I didn’t ask a lot of questions either then.”

She had accused him, right after she’d woken up, of being a killer. If he’d have told her about Adam she would have either thought he was lying or blamed it on him somehow.

She stood and walked to the center of the room and held out her hands. He flicked his gaze once towards the doorway then sighed and went to meet her. He ignored her hands, putting his arms around her back and pulling her close against him and kissing her hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I’m sorry I got so upset about you and Mom.” She whispered back and felt his lips curve into a smile against her forehead. “You’re right. It was a long time ago.”

He stepped away from her reluctantly, holding her hand for as long as possible before their fingers were just too far apart to touch. They settled back into their respective seats, smiling at each other and she resisted the urge to decide to just give up and trust Carissa. He saw the glances she was directing at the wall – even if they had only been out of sight of the door and window for a few minutes – and shrugged. However, he stood again and thumped the adjoining wall.

“What?” Jeremy yelled immediately and Charlie heard Carissa say something she couldn’t understand and she grinned at Bass.

“Sorry, nothing. I tripped.” Bass called back, settling back into the chair. “There. Now at least you’re not paranoid all night.”

“Sounds like you have other plans for me?” Charlie teased and Bass shrugged.

“Maybe. Then again, there is the little matter of having to wash Connor’s sheets for him. Which reminds me, when he said something about you owing a sibling, you looked like you wanted to say something. What was it?”

She thought for a moment, then smiled. “I wanted to say he needed you for that, not me, and that I’d help him hire someone.”

He laughed, but when he spoke his voice was gentle. "You don't really mean that, do you?"

“No, I don't. I was mad. As much at myself as you. But like usual, I took it all out on you. Someday I’ll learn to stop doing that.”

He shook his head, the motion hard to see in the darkness but she could make him out. “Don’t be sorry, Charlotte. About any of it. I. . .I know I promised I’d stop bringing up my age but sometimes I think it’s true. That you need someone who has fewer demons with your family than me”

“You’re right. You did promise. And I though I made it clear I don’t want someone else who doesn’t understand my family. Even if he has made out with my mother.”

“It was like being seduced by a glacier” Bass said, his voice dropping. “I know I shouldn’t say anything because she’s your mother and . . .well, the less said the better but if I don’t say something you’ll wonder. If Miles can get her to melt than good on him, clearly the two of them are meant to be together. And honestly, I thought what a great revenge on both of them by fucking Rachel. But she was so cold – oh, she was trying but she was so pissed at me I could tell. I. . .I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get it up. That’s the real reason my pants never came off.” Charlie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, even though she knew she should be furious at him for talking about it but she remembered accusing him of their whole relationship being about everyone else. And he had clearly been listening and remembered.

“Really?”

“Really. Don’t get me wrong. You’re mom is beautiful. But. . .well, I stopped having sex with inanimate objects even before the blackout and I. . .I’m not kidding when I said I couldn’t. Now for you, I don’t seem to have that problem. Ever. Do you know how uncomfortable I got standing all day tied across from yon in that damn pool. I ached so damn bad by the end of the day because my pants were loose and the stupid thing was going down my leg instead of up and I was tied so I couldn’t have adjusted it, even if you hadn’t have been standing across from me. Tied up. Like you were gift wrapped just for me. Which is twisted, considering the situation.”

“And when I was drugged?”

His voice was unexpectedly sober. “That’s about the only time I wasn’t. And that’s when I knew there was a problem. I’d tried to convince myself it was just all about your tits and your ass and all that skin you were always flashing. But when you were passed out and all I wanted to do was take care of you till you could wake up again. . .so you could yell at me again and tell me what piece of shit I was but just so you’d be there for real. I even tried to tell myself it was because you were the closest thing I could have to Miles, but I knew even then I was lying to myself. Miles knew something was wrong, when he was asking what I’d done to you. I think he knew even then I felt something for you, even if he wasn’t sure what. Hell, even I wasn’t sure what.”

She could feel the ache inside of her and she felt herself shift in the chair. He was staring at her from across the room and she smiled. They had, she estimated, close to two hours left before anyone came to check on them, separated by the distance from the window to the door.

There wasn’t much light in the room – not enough for him to see her blush, but she pulled her shirt off, dropping it on the floor next to her and she could see his eyes widen and he leaned forward, his breath turning irregular as she ran her fingertips between her breasts then trailed them over to pinch her right nipple through the fabric of her bra. She pulled it out of the cup and massaged it with her hand, letting herself gasp the quietest of whimpers in the back of her throat. She did the same with the left breast, this time, gasping “Bass,” softly as her hand closed around it.

She let her left hand trail down her stomach, leaning back in the chair to dip it into her jeans and focus on her clit. It was inside her that was aching but other than trailing a finger in for some moisture, she left it alone. That she’d leave for him to take care of later.

He was still sitting immobile in the chair, probably a little in shock but she could hear from his breathing how aroused he was. Two hours would be more than enough time to be ready for her again, she decided. “Bass,” she whispered again and his eyes locked with hers. “Sebastian. Let me see you. I want to watch.”  
For a moment she thought he was going to refuse but he glanced down the hallway then pulled himself free of his pants with a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan and a whisper of her name.

 

When they had both finished, redressed and cleaned up as best they could with one of his shirts she'd found near the window and tossed to him after wiping her hands, she leaned back, her head against the window. It wasn't just the sensations of the physical release -- though the sight of him whispering her name as he'd come into his own hand had been surprisingly moving -- but rather the knowledge they were going through everything together that made her relax. The tension that had felt a permanent part of a few hours ago easing out of her muscles as he smiled across at her.

"Well," Bass' voice, she was pleased to notice, was still a little ragged. "That was interesting."

"Hey, no one can accuse us of leaving our posts. I can still see the window, you can still see the door. What more could Miles want?" She stretched her neck, one hand going behind to work at a knot. "I, on the other hand, could use a massage."

"Later," promised, re-adjusting his chair for what she could only presume was a better view of the hallway. He also looked more relaxed, she decided but she forced herself to sit up straighter.

"I may have made a mistake."

Her eyes had been staring at him in the mostly dark room for long enough she had no trouble seeing the way he immediately reacted, tensing up and turning back to her. "Charlie, if you --"

She ignored the anguish in his voice, trying not to smile as she cut him off. "I'm really sorry, but apparently getting myself off puts me to sleep just as much as you getting me off. So you're going to have to talk to me -- probably until Mom and Grandpa get here -- because, otherwise, I'm going to fall asleep." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, for those of you who had been commenting you wanted more sex. . .hope this helps. I actually ended it sooner than I planned but as I was writing, my father called so I decided to finish the chapter where I did rather than waiting a few days to recapture the mood. I am actually pretty happy with it though.
> 
> I've always been curious exactly what how much interaction Rachel and Bass had after Miles left the Republic (and what did happen to make him think she died?) but it's not difficult to imagine her deciding to try to seduce him and not being happy when he doesn't fall for it. I decided to play a little on Charlie's insecurities by having her find out about it but while she and Bass go through a rough patch, it actually does help their cause because Carissa is impressed with how something like that has very little impact on them. Which, if you're choosing to join a resistance movement, it would be nice to know there is a little bit of substance to the people running it and they're not going to just fall apart every time someone has a bad day.


	31. Chapter 31

“Falling asleep, huh?” Bass asked and Charlie could tell he was trying not to laugh at her. “I’ll remember that next time you want to try sex on watch.” She wanted to get up and walk across the room to him so much her muscles were starting to tense up again. He usually cuddled into her afterwards, nestling them together rather than being too far away to touch.

They’d not touched in days, but they’d also been avoiding each other so she’d not had him sitting across from her – even when they’d been in their perimeter during the day he’d managed to mostly stay out o her sight -- to highlight how much she’d missed him. 

He was starting at her, his smile lazy and she almost growled in frustration. He made no secret of the fact he enjoyed her body tremendously but he’d also proved n numerous occasions he was more patient than she was. It was no different, she told herself firmly, than sitting in a blind waiting for an animal.

Except he looked more like a hunter than prey. The worse, she decided, was that from his expression, she was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was thinking.

The chances of Carissa making a run for it were minute but she shifted in her seat, trying to slow her nerves. Despite the unlikelyness of the scenario, all the relationships worked because everyone understood the fact the entire household was trusting everyone else to be responsible.

“So,” she blurted out, “when you can get coffee, how do you like it?”

He lowered his head like he was ashamed, but she could see the creases at the corners of his eyes. The moon had risen enough there was more light in then the room than when they’d first sat down. “Honestly?”

“No point in asking if I want you to lie to me.”

He sighed. “Fair enough. I was an evil dictator. I should like it black, strong, something like that. But really. . .iced mocha. No whipped cream but lots of milk, sugar and chocolate.” He sighed again. “We had all those, at the end, in Philadelphia. But I kept getting people to bring it to me hot and black because that was what was symbolized strength. Before he left, Miles would make it for me sometimes and bring it in a flask so no one would realize what I was drinking. Later -- after --Jeremy would sometimes do that but usually just if he wanted something really badly. So stupid of me to be so worried about what people would think when I doubt they'd ever have even known or cared. Some days I look back and. . .it’s like everything was a haze. What about you?”

“Black with sugar. But I’ve never had it iced before so I might like that too.” It was a pointless debate since she’d not tasted real coffee in nearly five years. She’d drank what they’d called coffee when she has been with the Rebels but it had been usually just toasted grain – wheat, barley or rye being most common. But it had been hot and strong – usually laced with whatever alcohol they could get. Georgia had coffee plantations, but most of the crops had been exports to Europe.

“Have you talked to your Mom?” His question surprised her since she had been expecting something trivial and she closed her eyes for a moment.

“Not. . .about what happened between the two of you. But it’s also not really been awkward between her and I like it was for us.” Which, she realized, was rather surprising since Rachel not talking about things was usually what drove her crazy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier. Or about Adam. A few times I’ve started to but I’ve always chickened out. Didn’t want to see the look on your face. I’d kind of wondered. . .about you and Adam.”

“I didn’t sleep with him. Thought about it. But at the time the only thing I could focus on. . .well, was finding and killing you. You talk to her either?”

He shook his head. “What’s there really to say? Sorry I didn’t sleep with you? Sorry I got your husband and son killed and kept you locked up for nine years. Sorry I didn’t manage to keep Miles away from you back when you first met Ben?”

“What. . .how did it happen?”

“Shit.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Ben met her at some conference and brought her for a barbecue when Miles and I were home on leave. Both our families were over at the Matheson’s house. When she walked into the back yard and. . .I remember thinking, ‘Go, Ben. She’s hot.’ And then I turned and saw Miles’ face. And I knew something was wrong.” He exhaled and she could hear the resignation and sorrow in his voice. “No point in what-ifs now. After I found out that Emma had a son I wondered what would have happened if I’d not had sex with her – if Emma and Miles had gotten married – would that have been enough to stop them? Or would it have happened anyway?”

She understood the painful nature of what-ifs all too well. “I guess we’ll never know. My turn again.” She paused, trying to come up with something new they hadn’t already covered. “What would you think if you had to be President again?”

“I couldn’t. Won’t. So if you’re hankering for a chance to control the White House, you’d better come up with a few catchy campaign slogans to run yourself. Would you want to?”

“Nope. I want to have a farm near enough that we can visit Miles and my Mom but far enough away we don’t get caught back up into the polotics. I just sometimes wondered, after Mexico.”

He rubbed the spot on his forehead where the bruise had faded but there was still a small scab from where the buttstock had broken his skin. “Not a shining example of my continued sanity. Really, all I was thinking about was trying to get Connor. I thought that was the only thing I had to offer him. The idea of offering him siblings never crossed my mind.”

“Sometimes you just have to know how to bribe someone. Best bribe you’ve ever offered.”

“Emperor of Baltimore.”

“There was an Emperor of Baltimore?”

“For about six months, yeah. He wanted pairs of zebra, monkeys, giraffes and ostriches and an estate to raise them. We spent eight months trapping and catching them from escaped zoo animals. When we handed him the keys to the property we found up by Aberdeen he didn’t even brief us about the contents of his desk. For all I know, he’s still there breeding exotics. He wasn’t really sane either. But later, looking back, I think he realized the road he was headed down and was getting out while he still could. You?” 

“Traded Florrie Jenkins a yard of knitted lace for a hunting knife. I used to skin rabbits with it.” She realized her voice was sounding wistful. “I was twelve. Took me six weeks to knit the lace. She liked frills but she hated to knit. So did I. But I wanted a real knife all my own.”

“I’ll add knitting to your list of accomplishments,” he laughed. “How did that happen?”

“My father was adamant I learn how to sew, knit, quilt, crochet, cook and that sort of stuff. And to be fair, he made Danny learn all the same things. Said we’d never know when they might come in useful. I hated it, but he was right. He said I never had to enjoy it, just be able to do it. Some people didn’t bother to make their kids learn – said the power would come back on before it mattered. He. . .well, yeah, he did know different.”

“Ben was always practical. He actually knew how to sew. Did you know that?”

She nodded, feeling her chest tighten with unshed tears. “Yeah. I always thought he learned after the blackout.”

“No.” Bass leaned back, eyes drifting closed as if in memory. “One day I was over and your grandmother was hemming a skirt. She liked sewing and made a lot of her own clothes. Well, Miles and I were playing with legos and Ben was reading something and all the sudden he put his book down and asked Irene to teach him how to do it. Miles and I decided to get out of there and he grabbed us both and said we were all going to get lessons.” He laughed. “Irene was smart enough not to let us touch her skirt but she \had us each make a pillowcase. We used her machine on most of it but we all did our open hem by hand. They certainly weren’t pretty but it definitely impressed my mother when I brought it home. Ben. . .Miles and I both worshiped Ben. We’d have learned to knit lace if he’d have told us to. Fortunately he decided pillow cases were enough. He’d do things like that sometimes. Decide there was something we needed to know and then he’d make us both go learn it with him. Sometimes incredibly random stuff – like how parking meters really worked or how to change a tire.” Charlie wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry and wasn’t sure she wasn’t doing a little of both. She could still hear Bass’ voice but it was low and rough. “I. . .I never meant for anything to happen to him.”

“I know,” she whispered back, feeling the tears running down her cheeks but not even trying to wipe them away. “Let’s. . .let’s talk about something else.” He sat upright and she watched him wipe at his eyes. She wondered if she had been rougher with her breasts than she had thought because they ached and she rubbed at one, grimacing. It had happened before – one or the other of them getting caught up in the moment and having the marks to show for it afterwards. He studied her and she shrugged under his gaze. “I think I was a little more enthusiastic than I’d planned.” And, she had to concede to herself – even if not to him – she’d probably on some level been trying to show off her skill. Competing with her mother, she decided firmly, was pointless and she’d only drive herself crazy trying.

Though she still was going to try to remind him what they enjoyed about each other as soon as they were allowed to touch again.

“Sorry.” He actually sounded contrite and it made her laugh.

“What are you sorry for? I’m the one who was doing it.” She wondered if she’d left any bruises on herself. She had gotten used to the fact they left the occasional mark on each other but it was odd to think of marking herself for him. Even if the whole thing had been unintentional.

“I’m. . .never mind. So did you finish that book you were reading the other night? Beauty plating or something?”

“Nickle Plated Beauty,” she corrected.

“Sounds like really kinky bondage. I thought it was a kids book?”

“It’s a cookstove. I doubt it felt uncomfortable." It would be easy to take the conversation straight back into sex but she decided she really didn’t want to go down that road again. Her entire body still felt languid, like it needed a long nap, but the desperate rush for sleep was starting to pass. It was temporary, she thought, not sure how long she’d actually be able to stay awake once she stretched out into a bed, particularly if it meant curling around him. “I’m more than half way through. In fact, they just had a dance the town Christmas dance. Hester just tricked her estranged Aunt and Uncle into making up.”

And in the space of a few seconds her mind, wandering around the plot of a children’s book, had gone straight back to sex. She wryly started to wonder if this was the harbinger of another impending period. If so – and if her current emotional turmoil was anything to go by – she’d be in for another hell of a round of mood swings. However, she decided, there was plenty of time to warn him about that later. No point in spoiling the moment now.

What was odd, she realized, was that he appeared to be trying just as hard to censor his responses as she was. Well, she remembered, he had always been perceptive and was probably aware how close to the emotional edge of moody she was walking, even she was currently on the metaphorical high side.

She heard a door open and close and he vaulted out of his chair – seemingly no transition between relaxed and moving and her own muscles screamed in protest but she followed. He was frozen in the hallway and she could feel the murderous tension trying to bleed out of his muscles even from a few feet away.

Carissa stood in the hallway, arms crossed, yawning. “Good morning, fair jailers. Who’s escorting me to the outhouse?”

Bass jerked his head at the door just as Jeremy opened it, face clearly annoyed. “Damn it, I said wait for me to get my pants on,” he growled. "Or else. . .ah, see, now look what you’ve done. . .gone and riled him up. Great job.”

The intel officer glanced between then, snorting. “Wow. Paranoid much, Monroe? I have to pee.”

Jeremy groaned. “Hello, did you people actually read your reports on him in Cuba or did you just use them to line pet cages? This is General Sebastian Monroe, damn it. And he’s doing a lot better. Do not. . .and I mean DO NOT get him headed down that road.” She was witnessing, Charlie realized, the most upset she’d ever seen Jeremy and from the look on her face, she was pretty sure Carissa realized it too. “Short history lesson, Captain Bailey.” The sarcasm in his voice appeared to be actually getting snider as they all walked down the stairs together. “And like I said, you should have gotten these reports. This man takes family seriously. As in there are documented lethal consequences to messing with them. So I advise next time you have to go in the middle of the night, you might want to let me be the first one out of the room so he gets a little warning.”

“Fine. I’m sorry.” Charlie reached out and grabbed Bass’ hand as soon as they were clear of the stairs and he gripped it tightly. He wasn’t shaking any longer, which she took as a good sign, and he was almost smiling, which was probably even better. 

“Because if you –”

“I said I get it.” Carissa’s voice was quiet but even Jeremy winced from the bitterness in it. “And yeah, I think I have a right to be a little worried that I’m surrounded by a troupe of babysitters. But the thing is, I’m not sure here if they’re watching me or him. Me, I get. Him? Come on, Carissa. Come join our little insurgency but we’re not really going to trust you. But we are going to trust someone with. . .how did you put it, Jeremy. . .an extreme history of mental instability. So I’m just supposed to have faith that he’ll be fine when this whole thing is over? And yes, thank you, I did read my reports. And on him, there were a lot. Mostly after Randall started working with him.”

Jeremy winced and Charlie glanced at Bass but he was frowning, as if deep in though and suddenly he turned to her. “We’re not an insurgency.”

Carissa froze with her hand on the back door. “You’re debating grammar with me at midnight on the way to the outhouse? Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I am.” He leaned past her to push the door open and he strolled, almost casually, outside. “You all coming?” he finally asked as he got down the steps and they were all still in the doorway. Carissa shook her head but she started moving and Charlie followed. “You see, insurgent swere what I fought in Iraq. They fight their own people as well as those trying to help them. And I won’t deny there were plenty of moral conflicts about us being there. But we weren’t there to run the country. We let them do that. And we weren’t there to take their money. We poured more aid and resources into their economy than we did our own. And we’re not attacking and slaughtering Patriot Soldiers and families. Even if you all have made it so damn easy. . .even a little tempting.”

“Tell that to the crisped patrol.”

“Then you tell Aaron and Cynthia they’re insurgents for defending themselves. I dare you.” Carissa had the grace to look guilty. “I’d say it was closer to a coup than an insurgency. . .but we’re not even planning to change leadership. Same guy, different supporters. The rebels were closer to an insurgency. . .but I don’t think I ever called them that. They were Americans. . .just ones with a different vision.”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “Um, Bass. I. . .think you may have. And you kind of waxed poetical about the corruption of the United States and the moral vacancy of those who were trying to restore it.”

Charlie watched Bass almost smile again, then shrug. “Well, I was paranoid-delusional at the time. But it was still no excuse. I have a lot to make up for. Unless you want us to just disappear into Canada and let them keep setting up these re-education camps?”

Carissa rounded on him but her eyes were shiny. For a moment Charlie thought the Captain was about to hit him but her face twisted and she shook her head. “You do go for the quick, don’t you?” she said quietly.

“I wouldn’t have to if the Patriots fought fair. But they don’t,” he replied. “So I can’t either.”

“You’re a fucking bastard, Sebastian Monroe.” There wasn’t nearly as much anger behind the words as Charlie would have expected.

“I haven’t even started yet.”

Carissa paused with her hand on the handle of the outhouse door. “Seriously. You think the fact you can turn into a monster is suppose to inspire loyalty.”

Charlie almost shuddered at the smile and the voice that took her straight back to the couch in Philadelphia. The tone said, ‘I am utterly and completely done playing games with you, Rachel,’ even if his actual words were, “No. But you’re all here so maybe we can fix this without going that far. But if I need to. . . .”

Carissa slammed the door on his face and he stared at it for a few minutes before looking over at Jeremy. “You got this? I need a walk.”

Jeremy glanced at the door, Bass and Charlie and she almost laughed at his expression. It reminded her of a mother hen with chicks scattering in all directions and he didn’t know who to follow more. “Well, yeah. . .but why don’t we wait a few minutes and let me get Miles and then –“

“No. I just need to think for a minute. Miles doesn’t need me waking him up every time I’m having a moment where I feel like I’m channeling my own ghost. Fuck, I hate being him sometimes. Even when it’s necessary.” He glanced over at Charlie. “You okay?”

She wasn’t sure if it was the fact she’d just got used to watching him turn into General Monroe sometimes or if he was just completely right but she didn’t feel the normal dread when he regressed. “Yeah, sure. How long will you be gone?”

“Not long. Just a quick walk around the garden. I. . .need to think for a minute. And I think it would be better if she didn’t see me right away either.” He walked into the trees near the woodpile and Jeremy turned to sigh at her.

“He scares the hell out of me sometimes.”

Charlie shrugged. Most of the time she would have agreed but for some reason she wasn’t scared or even disgusted. “I know what you mean. But do you get the feeling he’s right in some way.”

Jeremy’s laugh was completely joyless. “Why do you think I followed him for so long? Trust me, it wasn’t because I liked the jacket. Because, in the end, he’s almost always right. . .even if he has the shittiest ways of expressing it.”

Carissa came back out, the stubborn set of her jaw easing as she looked around. “Where’s Monroe?”

“He needed a walk,” Jeremy said. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.” Carissa followed him over towards the pump, washing her hands and Charlie shook her head when Jeremy glanced at the outhouse than again at her with a questioning glance.

There was less tension than Charlie would have expected on the walk back, mostly because Carissa just looked half asleep and Jeremy didn’t try talking. He paused at the door to his and Carissa’s room.

“Um, do you mind if I talk to Charlie for just a minute and –“ he broke off as Charlie thought she heard the faintest sound from her room – not even as loud as the scuff a shoe -- and Jeremy froze. After a moment he sighed, “Never mind. It can wait till morning. Night, Charlie.”

“Good night,” she echoed, getting an insubstantial murmur from Carissa that may or may not have contained real words before the door closed. “Thought you were going on a walk,” she said, without turning. 

“Well,” his voice was a little lighter but he was standing where he was out of her sight so she couldn’t tell what look was on his face, “I decided that could wait till I wasn’t on watch. What gave me away?”

“Jeremy. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known you were here if he hadn’t changed him mind about watching with me.” He came to the door and she couldn’t help but smile at the smug grin. His delight in his ability to sneak up on her reminded her of a child sometimes.

The door to Gene’s room opened and her grandfather and mother both came out, their faces still bearing imprints from pillows. “Mom, I can take middle watch tomorrow night,” Charlie said, watching Rachel yawn and rub at her eyes.

“Thanks but no thanks. Honestly, I don’t mind it after the first few minutes. She glared at Bass. “Did you know your son talks in his sleep?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, he does. It was driving me a little nuts so I moved into Dad’s room. Also, that way I didn’t wake him and Miles when it was my watch.” She looked at Charlie like she wanted to say something but then sighed. “Anything going on?”

“Yeah, I pissed her off on our way down to the outhouse. Other than that. . . .” Bass shrugged.

To Charlie’s surprise, Rachel actually smiled. “Glad to know your people skills never change.” He shrugged and her grin got just a tiny bit wider. “All right, sleep well, you two.”

Based on his silence, Charlie wasn’t sure who she was getting as they walked into Connor’s room but she stripped off her clothes and crawled into the bed, nestling into the blankets at the cool air washed over her skin. Bass was just as rapid at dropping his own clothes onto the floor but he wasn’t aroused as he pulled her back against his chest and nuzzled her neck. “I’m sorry I was such as ass earlier,” he murmured around her hair and she turned her shoulder to stroke his upper arm.

“Just part of the game. I know. . .I’ll see him sometimes. I’m getting to be more okay with that. As long as he doesn’t take up permanent habitation, I think I’m okay with it.” His arms gripped her so tight she almost couldn’t breathe for a moment before they loosened.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispered and she turned in his arms so she could kiss him. When she was finished his breathing was rough and one of his hands cupped her cheek.

“If. . .if you plan on sleeping, you should probably tell me so now.” His arousal against her leg was blatantly obvious and she felt her lips curve into a smile.

“Of course I’m planning on sleeping.“ She saw the disappointment but resignation in his eyes and she brushed at his shoulder with her hand. “And you’re going to make sure of it.” She would never, she decided, get tired of his grin.

“That, I think I can manage.”

 

She woke the next morning to something jarring the mattress and looked up to find Connor kicking it. Bass burrowed his face further under her hair, his breath washing over her neck as he groaned something she couldn’t understand.

Connor, she realized, was kicking the mattress from as far away as he could manage and still reach it with his foot. She pulled the sheet further up her shoulders and yawned.

“Come on guys, get up.” His voice was annoyed but lacked urgency and Charlie rolled over, smashing her face in the pillows. She waved an arm at Connor and heard him laugh.

“No, seriously, get up. Miles needs you both.” Someday, she promised herself, she was going to have a life that involved getting to sleep in.

She heard Bass mutter something into her ear as he shoved away from her, grabbing one of the blankets and wrapping it around his waist. “Fine. I’m up.” He leaned over to kiss her on the temple. “Go ahead and go back to sleep. I’ll see what he wants.”

“Nope. Both of you,” Connor insisted and Charlie saw Bass glare at him so she stood, keeping the sheet tucked around herself, before Bass could argue.

“We’ll be down in a minute.” She said, reaching for her shirt and Connor nodded thanks at her before he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

It was barely past dawn and Charlie yawned, turning in her search for her bra to watch Bass lean over to grab his pants. He saw her looking and shook his head. She shrugged, feeling herself grin helplessly at him and he strolled over, still naked, to kiss her on the top of the head.

“Keep that up and Miles will get really pissed. He hates to be kept waiting.”

He sounded almost cheerful, a marked contrast to his bitterness the night before and she kissed him on the shoulder before walking out of arms reach to put on her own clothes. She didn’t think it was sex itself as much as the physical connection to another person that seemed to level his moods. She was almost curious to test the theory and try a few days of just cuddling but decided she would probably not be able to manage that herself.

 

Miles was in the kitchen, hunched over the table with his shoulders all bunched and he didn’t exactly smile at them when they came in. “Okay,” he said immediately. “The question is, do we trust her or not. Because if we don’t. . .we either need to kill her or leave Willoughby. But if we do. . .I think it’s time we prove it.”

“You mean stay here?” Charlie said and Miles nodded.

“I really hate asking anyone to take the chance that we’re going to get trapped here. But we took that chance already when we told her what we were really doing. So do we fish or cut bait?” Charlie wasn’t exactly sure what the last thing he said meant but Bass snorted.

“I think. . .she’s starting to get fidgety with us. She and I had a pretty good fight about it last night. Besides, it’s not like we’re not risking anything more than Jeremy already has been this week.”

Miles nodded. “Thanks kind of what I’m thinking. If she was going to sell us out, she’d have done it already. Okay, I’m going to go tell Jeremy.”

Bass moved to the stove, filling a pan with water. “I’m going to see how many eggs we have. I’m going to do something for breakfast. And how much rice do we have? Jeremy asked for it the other day but I’ve not been around to cook much of anything.”

Charlie slumped next to Miles in her own chair. “Well, I suppose I need to do laundry anyway.”

“I don’t suppose I could get you to take Rachel and go out somewhere for the day?” She turned to look at him and he shrugged. “Yeah, I thought so.”

 

It was easy to tell the entire household was on edge the whole day. Noises made everyone jumpy and when they heard footsteps on the path late morning, Charlie discovered that even her mother was packing a pistol tucked into her waistband. Fortunately, the patient coming to ask Gene to pull a splinter he’d gotten jammed under his thumbnail was easily identified as one of the local farmers before he knocked on the door.

Carissa and Jeremy arrived home about an hour earlier than normal and she seemed surprised to see them. Despite the tension between her and Bass the night before, the two of them bantered while Bass finished dinner over whether spaghetti sauce was really the same thing when it was served over rice.

Carissa leaned back in her seat, sipping from the cup of tea Jeremy handed her. “I could get used to this,” she sighed. “I have to admit, after last night, I was ready to have you all lined up in front of a firing squad. But not matter how much I get irritated, it’s the fact you all care so damn much about each other that I just can’t get over.”

“Glad you see our good qualities,” Jeremy joked. 

“It’s the oddest thing. I mean,” she waved between Charlie and Bass, “I could tell the two of you were still really distant. But even though I couldn’t hear what you were saying, I could hear you two talking for hours .”

“Welcome to our fucked up family,” Bass said. He smiled slightly as he pulled the pot of rice from the oven, stirred it and put it back inside. 

“Yeah. I’m starting to get that.”

“So anything new today,” Bass asked and Carissa shrugged.

“Not really. Though the less than subtle conscriptions squads apparently started to get some attentions in Texas. We got an extremely nasty letter from Secretary Fry which didn’t quite spell out what portions of our anatomy we could put into other orifices. . .but it wasn’t that far off.”

“Texas coming onto our side would be a huge help,” Bass admitted. “Miles tried to get them at the beginning but Fry wasn’t willing to listen and Carver climbed into bed with them.”

“Well he’s starting to regret that if the letter we got was any indication. Director Truman and his lovely wife – who has been bitchier than normal in my humble opinion – spent a chunk of the day closeted with this super creepy zombie-dude – who by the way, is a new guy. As in recently brainwashed. This one came from some camp in Georgia. . .not from Cuba. Well, no telling what they came up with but they all looked a little smug when they came out. And I doubt it was because they had a threesome in there. . .at least not my type.” She glanced over at Jeremy and he help up his hands.

“Don’t look at me. . .I prefer one-on-one. Less feelings to hurt, egos to bruise and only one pair of elbows to keep track of.”

Carissa snorted. “You know, for the way you talk, you’re surprisingly prude.”

“Yeah, but you forgive me because I give amazing massages.”

She shrugged. “You totally have me there. That’s a fringe benefit I was not expecting. . .and I’m really going to hate having to give that up.”

“Give up what?” Miles asked, walking in and pouring himself a glass of water. 

“The massages. Not yet,” Carissa wrinkled her nose and she wound a strand of her hair around her fingers. “But there’s things I’m not getting told. . .because my loyalties aren’t exactly in question but my sympathies are. Let’s just say there are things they’re not telling me. Though right now it’s not obvious. Later, I may get more out of them when I’m not trailing him –“ she waved towards Jeremy, “like a broken toy.”

“I can see that,” Miles admitted. “Does he stay home tomorrow?”

“No, not yet. He still gets people to talk to him about the damndest things. Maybe not re-education camp locations and numbers. But about their feelings and families. The things they fear. What they think about being Patriots.”

“And a lot about Sebastian Monroe,” Jeremy added. “I spend a lot of time talking about you.” He nodded at Bass. “I share my experiences and everyone has a different story about their opinion on the Monroe Republic. Because –and I’m still working on this one – the Patriots had you picked out a long time ago as their fall guy. You and Foster both. I’m getting some really strong reactions about both of you.”

“What sort of reactions,” Miles asked. 

“That’s what’s weird.” Jeremy frown twisted for a moment into a grimace. “It’s mostly negative for both Georgia and Mornroe. But not the rebels. Even if they fought for Georgia.”

“Nothing weird about that,” Charlie said. “Randall said he was going to use Monroe to wipe out Georgia then wipe out Monroe. The rebels didn’t exactly fight FOR Georgia as much as AGAINST Monroe. Common enemy and all that. Georgia was a major threat because they wouldn’t have just rolled over but I’ll bet the Rebels were some of the first ones to sign up to be brand new Patriots as soon as those boats landed.” She shuddered, thinking of the Rebels that she’d fought with, shared meals, fires, water and ammo. She hadn’t let many close after Tom Neville had killed Father Nicholas escaping – sticking closest to Miles, Nora and Jason and Jim Hudson– but she could still see their faces when she closed her eyes. They had been mostly a crude, suspicious -- often unwashed – paranoid and bitter group but there had been a genuine hope and idealism underneath the heavy layers of cynicism. She thought of the many times someone had thrown her extra ammo or she had gotten back to camp after a fight and found someone had already lit a fire for her or walked by and shoved bowls of watery gruel at her and Miles. It had been horrific slop but it had meant she could just focus on sharpening or fletching or whatever she needed to do before she could go to sleep.

Based on Miles glare he was thinking something similar and he shook his head when he saw her looking at them. “Got to find out more about that brainwashing thing. Can it be broken?”

“Not sure anyone has really tried,” Carissa admitted. “Not on normal cases. Granted, they tried to undo Beth. . .but she wasn’t a normal case.” She exhaled slowly. “Oh fuck it, as long as I’m turning traitor, no point in holding back. There are different levels. The worst are the Cadets. That’s what Beth was. That’s what they weren’t supposed to do again. And they. . .they’re the ones you can never trust because no matter how bad they want out. . . .” She set a finger under the base of her eyes and pulled back the skin. Charlie craned over, not sure what she was looking at. “On a cadet, there will be a number there.”

“Ouch,” Jeremy said, rubbing his cheek. “How the hell does that work.”

“Not sure. Never seen them doing it personally. But that number. . .reading it off. . .reactivates their programming.”

“Can you control someone if you read it,” Bass asked quietly and Carissa’s shoulders hunched.

“Not really. It’s not like a permanent thing. They don’t stay like that forever – a few hours or a few days – depending on the person. But it’s not like they’ll do whatever you tell them. It sends them straight back to their original conditioning. That’s what they think happens to Beth. . .it randomly triggers, even without someone reading her number.”

“Thought you said you didn’t know what happened to Beth,” Jeremy said and Carissa shrugged.

“I wasn’t. . .entirely truthful those first few days. I still had my doubts about you guys. I didn’t lie but I also didn’t always tell the whole story either. Which I expect a lot of sympathy about considering the lines of bullshit ya’all fed me.”

Monroe snorted and she glared at him but he smiled. “You grew up in D.C. and Cuba. You haven’t been in Texas long enough to start ya’all-ing people. Not that you’re the only one to say that sort of thing.” He glared at Jeremy, who shrugged.

“Dude, that was days ago and I promised I’d never do it again. Can we focus here?”

She’d missed something, Charlie realized and then decided she really didn’t need to know.

“I meant it when I said we don’t know why,” Carissa continued. “Cadets aren’t supposed to be able to trigger themselves but they think that’s what Beth does, every time she snaps. We just don’t know why it happens.”

“What about your oldest sister?” Charlie asked.

“Allison?” Carissa shrugged. “She never went through the program. She’s too busy being a politician to have time for stuff like being a Soldier. Last letter I had for her she was working on Victor Doyle’s staff and he’d just gotten promoted to Chief of Staff after Bill Jefferson had his heart attack. But Doyle’s always been the driving force behind any form of re-education. He’s pushed for it for years and President Davis told him no. . .but clearly, something has changed.”

“Bill Jefferson?” Jeremy asked and there was an edge to his voice. Carissa either missed it or didn’t care.

“Yeah. He’s been doing the job for about eight years. His daughter’s the one pretending to be Truman’s wife. Hell, for all I know they may have really gotten married. Her first husband died about seven years ago. Supposedly drowned but I always wondered about that. He was vocal against re-education.”

Jeremy nodded. “Thanks. So Allison works for this Doyle guy?”

“Yeah. And his making Chief of Staff means a pretty big promotion for her. She’s still pissed he got married recently – she’s had a thing for him for years – but for once she wasn’t going off about his new wife. Allison hates her. She’s not a Patriot. They met in Georgia after we set up there.”

Carissa stood when Bass pulled the rice back out of the oven and put it on the stove. The intel office began pulling plates out of the cupboard. After a moment, Miles followed her, grabbing glasses and silverware. Charlie helped Miles sort out the knives and forks at each place as Jeremy walked into the hallway, bellowing, “Dinner’s ready.” He glanced back at Carissa. “You were saying.”

She shrugged. “How about I say it later. Call it a childhood aversion but I’ve always hated mixing politics and food.” Gene and Rachel walked in and seated themselves at the table.

Bass grinned. “That I can absolutely understand.” He gestured at Connor who was the last one down the stairs. “Took you long enough. What were you do. . .never mind, I don’t want to know.”

Connor shrugged at his father as he took his seat but he turned to smile at Charlie. “Oh, just a surprise for later.”

“Well I did get your sheets washed so it had better not be anything unpleasant,” Bass grumbled and Miles glared at him before turning to Carissa. 

“I get your point. . .but if they start talking about sex, we’re going back to politics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I didn't mean for this to take ten days to write. Hopefully this is a nice tax-day present for everyone who has waited to last minute to do their taxes (um, like me. That's what I'm going to do as soon as I have finished posting this).
> 
> I ended up with a lot more politics and a lot less action than I wanted. I'm really wanting to get into some fight scenes. . .but given the necessity of not tipping their hand, Bass and Miles are having to keep a low profile right now. Fortunately, Texas is about to force a change in all that soon.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments and questions and to Samantha who's been emailing me with more questions on things I realize probably need to be clarified. I have a list of edits that I will need to make. . .and I've actually started making a timeline finally so I can track exactly how many days have passed between things (and I found a few more places where I need to fix some inconsistencies). But as I've said before, that's the price I pay for wanting instant-gratification of feedback and posting chapter-by-chapter rather then waiting and posting the whole thing at once. But I have a feeling if I'd have done that, this entire story would have just faded away somewhere around Jeremy getting re-introduced, only to be thought of now and then but probably never finished. So thanks for the requests for more. Believe it or not, there have been plenty of times I have slogged through chapters that were just not going anywhere until I hit on an ideas because there's nothing quite like the rush of getting new comments.
> 
> Hope ya'all enjoy this one (sorry, couldn't resist).


	32. Chapter 32

Miles shoved his plate away, yawning. “Bass, it kills me to say it, but that was actually really good.”

Charlie watched Bass grin as he stood and started collecting dishes. The lines around his eyes – the ones she found so incredibly adorable – crinkled as he walked over to the sink. “Why thank you, Miles. However, don’t worry. I shall endeavor to return to a steady diet of sandwiches so you don’t have to worry about expressing appreciation on a regular basis.

“No, please.” Carissa said quickly. “Ignore grumpy over there. Do this again. Or something like it. It was a nice change and I’ll compliment you so he doesn’t have to.” Even Miles grinned briefly.

“Alright, watch shifts officially cancelled for tonight.” Miles said as he stood and stretched, He titled his head and Carissa. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling us.”

“I’m sure there is plenty. But arrest squads aren’t one of them. At least not one from me. Though I won’t promise I won’t murder Jeremy in his sleep.”

Jeremy raised one eyebrow then yawned and glanced over at Connor. “Hey, I think she’s saying she needs her space. Mind if I bunk in your room tonight?”

“Sure, go for it,” Connor said immediately but Charlie was pretty sure it was the easy assurance of someone who knew it was an offer he wouldn’t have to worry about actually have happen.”

“Just for that, I’m taking the massage and going to sleep without having sex with you,” Carissa snapped but her tone was completely without rancor.

Jeremy shrugged. “Hate to break it to you, but while sex is far more fun overall, occasionally, it’s nice to take care of things yourself. Just ask Charlie.”

She didn’t even have time to start blushing before Bass whipped around, confusion and annoyance on his face as he snapped, “What the hell.” But he completely spoiled his indignation by asking, “what did you do, bore a hole in the wall to our room?”

Miles just shook his head, not even bothering to protest as Jeremy grinned. “No. You were way too happy when we all went downstairs for you not to have gotten something.”

“He was paranoid and jumpy,” Carissa protested, but Jeremy just laughed, leaning over to kiss her on the ear.

“Yeah. But when you’ve learned to catalog all 95 variants of his moods, you recognize which is which. On the scale, this was down in just the mid-40s and I was expecting at least the 60s so I knew there had to be other factors in play.” Charlie didn’t know whose face had to be more shocked but Jeremy finally shrugged. “Well, and you two weren’t nearly as quiet as you think you were.”

Bass snorted. “Thanks. Something we’ll work on. I was starting to get creeped out there.”

Connor made some comment Charlie missed but it made Gene and Rachel laugh and she stood. “Alright, well I am headed for bed. Goodnight everyone.”

“I’ll be up as soon as dishes are finished,” Bass promised and she heard Connor volunteering to help. 

Charlie headed for the stairs, aware that nearly everyone was following her. It had been a long few days with equally short nights and she wasn’t surprised no one was planning on a late night. She paused on the landing, ostensibly to hug Rachel goodnight. Her mother looked like she wanted to say something but Charlie smiled at her, whispering, “Can we talk later? I’m just really tired right now,” which was true but less so than she knew she and Rachel would have to have a conversation about whatever had happened sometime in the past decade but she wasn’t ready to do it now.

“Of course,” Rachel whispered back. “I love you, Charlie.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

She actually got a brief hug from Miles, which surprised her because they were often so rare and for a moment it felt like being home – though not home in the same way of being with Ben. She remembered Bass’ story about Ben wanting to learn random things – about the way he and Miles had danced alike –and she wondered if dancing had been one of Ben’s random things.

She grabbed Jeremy’s arm as he passed her and he grimaced but waited for everyone else to straggle up the stairs. Most everyone else had brushed off his comment as a joke but she wasn’t sure she believed it. “Ninety-five?” she asked and he studied her face for a moment, like he was afraid of scaring her.

“Give or take. There were a few I wasn’t sure if they were the same or not.” He looked at her like he was expecting some kind of outburst but when she said nothing, he finally shrugged. “I had a journal hidden where I had them all written out. I imaging it’s probably melted. You want me to try to remember them all or can we just go with the main ones.”

“Main ones would be helpful.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He frowned at her. “I would have thought you’d have not approved.”

“That you catalogued the moods of the man you worked with for how many years?”

“They found me about two months after the blackout and I was there till he thought he had me killed. So not quite sixteen years.”

“Well, you’re still alive. I would think there was value in it. So yeah, I want to know.” Once she would have found it creepy. But the fact he was there proved there may have been a point to it.

One corner of his mouth turned up as Carissa paused at the top of the steps and glanced down at them like she was surprised Jeremy wasn’t just behind her. Jeremy waved at Carissa before leaning close to Charlie. “Want to know something funny?” At her nod his voice dropped to a whisper. “And you can’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t believe it – but Miles actually has 112.”

She was about to protest there was no way Miles had more emotional states than Bass, let along nearly 20 more, but she snapped her mouth closed before the words could come out. They were both incredibly complex people – all three of them were, really – and she knew Miles used his detachment to cover the fact he actually did care, very deeply. He’d retreated into that bleakness every bit as much as Bass had used insanity as an escape because neither of them had quite been able to cope any longer.

Jeremy watched her for a moment longer before he smiled. “Good. I see you believe me.” She nodded and she was pretty sure he looked nervous, even as he pasted on that smarmy smile he hid behind. “I worry about both of them, you know?” he whispered and she started to laugh like he had said something funny but as she brushed past him up the stairs she gave him the slightest of nods that she thought he’d notice but no one else would. This time she didn’t imagine the profound relief and the merest shadow of a return nod before they were both on the upper landing and he was laughing, shoving Miles playfully, while gripping Carissa’s fingers in his.

She could have much worse allies, she decided, walking down the hall, than Jeremy Baker.

 

She woke in the middle of the night to Bass’ arms holding her, his voice murmuring, “Charlotte? Charlie?” in her ear as she thrashed and screamed and she realized she was drenched in sweat. 

The sheets and blankets that Connor had arranged – his surprise, she had discovered, was that he’d known Miles wasn’t going to do watches so he’d dragged their mattress back into their room and made their bed; small but thoughtful – were thrown around and she heard commotion in the hallway but Bass had already pulled one over her shoulders before the door was jerked open.

Miles was the first in, sword drawn, but Rachel was just behind them with a pistol and she could see Jeremy, Connor, Carissa and Gene all crowded into the hallway.

“It’s okay,” Bass said, and she could hear his voice shaking even if he was fighting to keep it calm. “She just had a nightmare.”

“I could hear her screaming all the way down the hall,” Gene snapped, brushing past Miles and glaring at him until her uncle sheathed his sword.

“I thought she was screaming ‘no’ over and over,” Connor commented and Bass glared at him.

“Thanks. It was right in my ear. I hadn’t caught the words,” Bass snapped and Connor looked a little guilty but she tried to smile at him around the sobbing breath that matched the race of her heart.

“What were you doing to her?” Rachel snapped and Charlie waved a hand.

“It was just a nightmare, Mom,” she managed to choke out. Her voice was shaking but she was relieved she wasn’t crying when she spoke, even if Rachel didn’t look like she believed her. She met Miles eyes and he turned around, catching Gene by the arm.

“Okay, nothing to see here. Everyone go back to bed.”

She turned to bury her face in Bass’ neck even as she heard her mother and grandfather protesting but she heard Miles low commands and Jeremy’s voice add to his before she heard the door close and a single set of footsteps walked over to the bed and she felt the mattress dip near her head where someone had sat and she knew even before she heard his, “Okay, Kid, what’s going on?” that it was Miles and she moved her head over to his thigh.

She felt Bass move away, sliding out the bed and she tried to catch his arm but he was past her and she turned to watch him pad around the room, picking up the blankets she’d scattered. Neither he nor Miles seemed to care that he was completely naked and Miles didn’t even bother to look away. It was one of those gut-wrenching reminders how much history they shared and she felt the sobs start to shake her again. “Go on,” Miles urged. “What was it?”

He stood, helping Bass tuck the blankets back around her then Bass climbed in, on the other side of her from Miles, wrapping one hand around her shoulder, propping himself on the pillows. “I can leave if you want me to,” he offered but she shook her head as Miles sat back down.

“Do you remember that day in the restaurant with the rebels? Right after you traded Jeremy yourself and the sniper rifle to let Rebels go?”

Miles nodded. “Yeah. That was the day you found out what I’d been. You were pretty pissed at me.”

“I thought. . . .“ Her lungs were still fighting her panic attack for air but she was no longer crying, at least for the moment. “I thought when Jeremy took you that Monroe would have you executed. So Nora and I came up with this plan to rescue you.” Looking back, it was a miracle that none of the three of them had been killed. She’d done some hare-brained things back when she hadn’t known what she was doing. “But my nightmare was what would have happened if I hadn’t done it. If he’d have taken you to Philly.” Bass’ face was miserable, she could see, even from that angle. “I didn’t know that the two of you were so close . . . who Jeremy was to both of you. And I could see it, in my dream. How happy you were to see each other. That Miles came back for me and Nora and we all went there together and I met my Mom and Danny didn’t die and Nora didn’t die and mom shot Randall in the head and we never went to the tower and the bombs didn’t drop. And then I was back there on that bridge watching myself with that flaming arrow, knowing how wrong everything was going to go and no matter how loud I screamed, I couldn’t stop myself from taking that shot.” Because that girl hadn’t cared about anything other than her brother and killing Monroe.

She felt both their arms around her shoulders and she wasn’t sure they weren’t hugging each other almost as much as they were hugging her but Miles leaned over to touch his forehead against hers. “It sounds perfect. It really does. But we can’t know it would have happened that way. There was still a lot of stuff we both had to work through then. It wasn’t your fault.”

“If I hadn’t –“

“Stop it. You didn’t force him to come for Ben. You didn’t make one of Neville’s guys pull that trigger or that helicopter trigger or launch that nuke. Charlie, we’ll go crazy, if we try to relive the past like that. I understand nightmares. I think we all get them. But that perfect future that you prevented by your stupid selfishness,” she felt her breath catch but she realized an instant later the bitterness in his tone was directed at himself, not her. “It’s not real. It’s easy to think it could be . . . but there was so much going on with all of us, there’s no predicting any of it. For one thing, I’d have thought you were better off without me and I probably wouldn’t have come back for you. So maybe he would have welcomed me back? But what about when I tried to kill him when I found out he’d been keeping Rachel and all of us – me, Bass, Danny and Rachel – died in the fighting? And you didn’t get those few days with Danny there at the end? Now it might not have happened that way but maybe it would have and we’ll never know. So yeah, beat yourself up for five minutes. I get that. But don’t let it drive you crazy. Or you’ll end up like us.” She could hear Bass laughing behind her but she could hear he was also crying at the same time and she moved one of her hands to twine with his. “You’ve got to let it go. We’ve all got to let things go. Not to forget them . . . but we can’t hold onto the what-ifs all our lives. You don’t want him or I to do you?”

She shook her head, murmuring, “No.”

“You forgave your Mom. You forgave me. You even forgave him. Think maybe you could forgive yourself?” She nodded roughly, hearing the rasp in his voice as he whispered, “That’s my girl.” He slid off the bed. “Now, if you’re going to be okay, I need to go calm down your mother.”

“Do you want me to come?” she asked, realizing the last thing she wanted to do was climb out of her cocoon of blankets and the warmth of Bass skin at her back.

To her relief he shook his head. “No. I think Rachel will understand guilt. She has enough nightmares herself connected to them.” He leaned over to kiss her on the top of the head. “Get some sleep. No bad dreams. You’ll have plenty of time for them tomorrow.”

She smiled at the cynicism in his voice, laced with humor and his own brand of caring. Miles’ walls were thicker than even her own, she realized, and yet he was always there when she needed him. “Night, Uncle Miles,” she said quietly, already burrowing her way back under Bass arm.

She heard his breath catch before she realized what she’d said -- how rarely she called him Uncle but that for that moment if had just slipped out. “Night, Charlie.” She didn’t think she imagined his voice was rougher than normal and Bass’ arms were around her tight as Miles closed the door.

She felt his breath against her cheek before he whispered, “You need to talk about it more?” into her ear and she shook her head.

“No. Just need you here with me.” She hadn’t thought -- after that – she’d be able to fall back asleep but as soon as her eyes closed she felt herself drifting back to sleep.

 

The bed was empty when she woke and she stretched, not sure what time it was but it wasn’t early based on the light. Her eyes throbbed with a small headache and her stomach felt queasy but she sipped water from a glass she found on the nightstand and it eased. She felt chilled and she wasn’t sure if it was from the weather or lingering shock of the dream – she remembered the same feeling after Ben had died; constantly cold even though the weather had been pleasant – but she slid one of his long-sleeve cotton shirts over her t-shirt before topping it with her jacket.

Connor was the only one in the kitchen but he rose from the table when he saw her and went to the stove and pulled out two boiled eggs from a pot of water and cracked them. “Do you want some tea? Kettle’s hot. Or I can make toast. . .I think.”

She shook her head, then yawned, which surprised her and she was too late to cover her mouth but he didn’t seem to mind, although he did give her a dirty look when he yawned a few moments later. “Eggs are fine.” She didn’t actually even want those but he was already peeling them and she took the plate he handed her and nibbled a small bite. It soothed the sourness in her stomach and she yawned again. “Sorry. Yeah, I guess maybe tea would be good.” She stood and moved around him when he started to reach for the tin where Gene kept the herbs they used as tea and pulled out a glass jar. She used a spoon to scoop a small amount of pale leaves into the bottom of a cup and crushed them with the back of the spoon before adding the hot water. “What time is it?”

“Not sure. Nine or so I think.” Later than she usually slept – especially recently – but not nearly as late as she’d feared. He wrinkled his nose at her cup and bent to sniff at it. “Does that taste better than it smells?” She cocked her head at it and he lifted it, nearly spitting out the small sip he took. “That’s disgusting. Why do you drink that?”

She was usually an earlier riser, having her first cup of the day with Rachel, before Connor was in the kitchen. “That’s what’s keeping you an only child.” He turned to look at the jar with new focus and she snorted. “No cheating. You’ll get your sibling when we’re ready and we’re sure as hell not ready yet.”

“Fair enough. But that tastes like ass.”

“And you know what that tastes like?” She didn’t wait for him to reply but he did blush. “The alternative is being pregnant while fighting Patriots and that’s not an option. Bet those professional girls you talked about know exactly what this tastes like.” She’d nearly gagged the first few times at the strong bitterness but – which she still didn’t like it, she no longer minded it or dreaded it like she had at first. “It’s thistle. Grandpa said that pennyroyal and wild carrot seed also work but pennyroyal can be fatal if you get the dose wrong and wild carrot seed is harder to find. Whereas thistles. . .well, this is Texas. That’s not a problem.” He took another cautious sip, made a face and handed it over.

“Well, I guess we know just how much you like sex with the old man. I think I’d pick celibacy rather than having to drink that.” She shrugged, trying not to smile but she was pretty sure she failed and he shook his head. She was pretty sure she’d never enjoy drinking t but it was well worth the alternative and she almost always had a cup of regular tea afterwards. Something about the contrast of flavors made the other tea taste better than any other time of the day. She’d never gone as far as drinking thistle any other time, just for the pleasure of the cup of tea afterwards, but there had been a few times she’d thought about it.

“Speaking of celibacy, did you ever get a chance to meet Tracy Bentley at the dance?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Julie introduced me but she danced with me so Tracy didn’t get a chance to talk to me. She’s really young.”

“What did you think of Julie?” She took another sip, letting the hot liquid puddle on her tongue for a moment before swallowing.

“She was nice. Pretty. She introduced me to her brothers. They scared the shit out of me but were nice about it. Like I said, professionals. Only way to go in small towns. But I don’t think there are any around. Well, not obvious ones at least. Not that I’m looking. Now, we get to D.C., and I will probably have a different story. But here . . . even if I am the only one in this house not getting laid.”

“Well, you and my grandfather,” she joked but he didn’t reply, just smirked at her and walked back to the stove. “Um. . .what aren’t you telling me?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what I would have assumed, but I got to hear an argument Friday night between him and someone he was calling Marion. Super pretty brunette. Actually, totally hot for her age. I’d do her, even if she’s almost old enough to be my grandmother. But my grandmother never looked like that.”

Charlie felt her mouth fall open. “Marion? Like Marion that has the bar in town Marion?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t introduce us. I’d ducked out back to have a drink and they were arguing behind the building. I stayed in the doorway so I’m pretty sure he never knew I was there.”

“What were they fighting about?” she asked.

“Well, sounds like they had something going before Miles showed up last year with you and your Mom. She was telling him she understood that he needed to be there for his daughter at first but that it had been nearly nine months and he either needed to tell Rachel or she was going to stop waiting for him because she was not some dirty secret that needed hidden.”

“What did he say?” Charlie wasn’t sure whether to be shocked and angry or shocked and pleased for her grandfather.

“I don’t know. Someone came out behind me to puke in the alley and they left and I came back inside. I thought of asking him about it but I really didn’t know how to bring it up and then that whole thing with Carissa happened and Gene and your mom were always together and I didn’t want to bring it up in front of her. I do know they didn’t start hooking up till a few years after your grandmother died because she told him she’d understand if he’d been hiding it from Rachel because of him cheating on Charlotte – that was your grandmother’s name too, wasn’t it?” She nodded, and he continued. “But that they hadn’t gotten together for a few years later. That was about the time the dude stumbled out and that was all I heard. Except he sounded pretty broken up when he was saying her name. Said he couldn’t tell your mom because of how bad she’d been.” He glanced over at her. “How bad was she?”

“She broke, after the Tower. You heard the story we told Carissa on Sunday.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know if there was more to it than that.”

“Fair enough. She couldn’t handle that she’d gone to turn the power on to stop Monroe,” she was surprised she’d defaulted to calling him that, like he was a totally different person. Once she would have thought he was but lately she wasn’t so sure. “And that Randall was able to launch the bombs because of her. She kept saying there had to be more, that t couldn’t have just been about Randall and we all kept telling her it was over. . .I was still super mad at her for letting Nora die so I was probably less than helpful and Aaron couldn’t believe he’d failed like that – this was before we knew the nanites could kind of d their own thing, even if we still don’t know what that is – and poor Miles was dragging us all around. Aaron in the world’s biggest pity party, Mom practically catatonic and I wouldn’t even acknowledge her existence. It’s kind a of miracle he actually got us here. That first night, after he handed us over to Grandpa he went out and came back and drank more than I’d ever seen him drink before.” 

He hadn’t spoken, just sat at the kitchen table and raged whenever anyone had tried to get near him. He’d broken down and cried eventually – that had terrified her more than anything – and she’d never been sure if it had been for Nora, for Rachel, for Bass, for Philadelphia or for himself. He’d sat, sword in one hand, whiskey bottle in the other and struck at whoever tried to get near him and sometimes at things no one else could see. They eventually just waited for him to pass out but with Miles’ tolerance, that had taken what felt like hours – though it had probably been only two or three – then dragged him up to bed. He’d been unusually foul for the next few days but he’d also never drank that much again. She’d meant to wait and talk to him but Rachel had cut her wrist open a few days later and she’d never gotten around to asking.

“Sounds like a good thing to have missed.”

“It was. We were all wrecks but Mom most of all. And it turned out all along Grandpa was working for the Patriots so he’d been pushing Mom to make her think she was crazy because if she wasn’t, then he’d been working for monsters and it was easier to think she’d snapped. So he probably deluded himself into thinking Mom couldn’t handle him having a girlfriend. Not. . .still not sure what she’d think about it, actually.” Marion, if Charlie recalled correctly, had lost her husband at about the same time Charlotte had died. She’d been one of the women working on the wild goose spread so she was a better-than-average quilter but she’d also been somewhat standoffish, not mixing conversation between the sewing groups like a lot of women had. But then again, Charlie thought, if her relationship with Gene was in limbo because of Rachel, it wasn’t much of a surprise that she’d been unusually withdrawn that day. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more cruel it seemed and she suddenly smiled at Connor. “Feel like going for a walk?”

He looked at her like he wasn’t sure he liked where she was going with it. “Just out or. . . ?”

“I feel like I need a drink.” She swallowed the rest of her tea in large gulps, unable to avoid making a face. Something to wash that down.”

“We’re living in the same house as Miles, my Dad and Jeremy. There’s plenty of stuff tucked away I’m sure.”

She shrugged and he grimaced. “Charlie, it’s really none of our business. I probably shouldn’t have told you about it and –“

“Knowing that you don’t mind about your Dad and I means a lot. And I do mean a LOT to me. I can’t even begin to imagine what a nightmare this would be if you hated me. So maybe it is a little soon to make Grandpa tell my Mom. But maybe I can let her know at least some of the family is okay with it.”

He groaned. “This is a really bad idea.”

He was absolutely right, she realized, but she stood and adjusted the dampers on the stove. “Yeah. But I’m not going to stick around here and brood about nightmares.”

“So you give her hope and then he leaves with us to go to D.C. and where does that leave her?”

Charlie paused, biting her lip and she realized he had a point but then she exhaled. “Then he gets to tell her he’s choosing his daughter over her. Not just leaving her to wonder if she’s that dirty secret he’s trying to hide.”

She heard his footsteps behind her as he caught up with her at the door. “This is still going to go badly, just so you know.”

“So why are you following me?”

“One, I have a vested interest in protecting you, remember? And two. . .well, it was in danger of getting a little boring. I wasn’t kidding when I said this is way more fun than dope fields. But I really hope she doesn’t move in too because I don’t think we can cram an extra chair around the table.”

“We manage two extras ever time Aaron and Cynthia come over.”

He shook his head and they walked down the road towards town, the air cool and a little damp but still not raining. “You really just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

She shook her head and then smiled. “That may be one of the nicest things you’ve ever said about me.”

 

The inside of the bar was dim from curtains strung across the windows and Charlie saw a few people scattered around the room but it was mostly empty. One of the table had a group of men talking about something, papers spread around in front of them and she nodded at Mike – one of the farmers seated at their table at the Patriot dinner and he waved back but didn’t get up as she and Connor took seats at the bar. There was on other man, drinking seriously, she was pretty sure, but he was at the other end of the counter and Marion handed him a fresh glass as he held up his empty one.

“This is your last one, Josh ” Charlie heard her say. “And I mean that. After this, you’re going to need to go home and sort things out with Susan.”

The man choked back what Charlie was pretty sure was a sob along with half his drink. “She doesn’t love me anymore. Told me to get out.”

“Well then after this you go upstairs and sleep it off. I’ll rent you that room till she changes her mind.”

“But she doesn’t love me anymore. She told me so.”

“Yeah, that’s what she said last month too. And the month before that. And the month before that when she stayed here because you kicked her out. Give it a couple of days and she’ll love you again.”

The drunk man was weeping softly but he looked up, lips parted like he was suddenly hopeful. “You really think so?”

“I do. Now finish your drink and head up. You know the way and I know you don’t have to be sober to climb those stairs. You sleep it off and I’ll bring you dinner.”

He started crying and Charlie smiled at the way Marion patted his shoulder before walking down to Connor and her. “Hey there, what can I get for you?”

“Whiskey,” Connor answered and Charlie nodded at the corked bottles lining the back wall.

“Do you have any beer?”

Marion poured a shot from the same bottle she’d used on the other man and slid it over to Connor before pulling a bottle off the shelf and handing it to Charlie. “That’s a hard cider. I’ve got some stouter brews if you want but you’re Gene’s granddaughter Charlie, aren’t you?” At her nod, the woman smiled. “He always did like a good hard cider.”

“Sure, I’ll try that.” Connor had described her as a brunette but Charlie was pretty sure the older woman’s hair was a dark auburn. But Connor hadn’t been wrong when he’d described her as pretty and if her treatment of the drunk was anything to go by, she was also kind hearted. Or just knew how to get repeat customers. But in a town this size without much competition, Charlie was more likely to guess kind hearted. “This is my cousin. Connor. Figured I’d bring him out and show him Willoughby.“ The cider was sweet without any way being cloying and while she could taste the fermentation, it blended with the apple notes. “This is really good.”

“Though you’d like it. Your grandfather always did like that one best. Haven’t seen him, being so busy with all the people staying at his house and all.”

It would have been easy to agree and move on but Charlie remembered the relief she’d felt when she and Connor had first started talking and getting along. “Mostly just my Mom,” Charlie said. “I don’t know what you’ve heard. . .but he wasn’t exaggerating about how sick she was. She’s better now – a lot better.” Finding out she wasn’t crazy had done a lot for Rachel. “And he’s probably being too careful. But with as bad as she was, there’s a reason for that. He’ll tell her in his own time. If you’ll give it to him.” Marion’s eyes went wide and she turned red.

“I. . .I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Charlie smiled, then shrugged and took another pull from her cider. Next to her, Connor dropped his face into his palms and muttered something but she ignored him. “Really?”

The bartender turned even redder, then leaned closer. “What did he tell you?”

“Grandpa? Unfortunately, nothing. He’s still too freaked out about how my mom will react. And I know that sounds like an insult but it’s not meant to be one. My mom was. . .delicate. Now she’s not. But he don’t really get it.” She saw Marion’s face crease, like she wasn’t sure what to think of that and suddenly realized she’d practically implied Rachel had been pregnant. She was about to correct herself but stopped. If that explained some of Rachel’s more erratic behaviors, it might be a misconception left for now. “With my brother dying and. . . that, it was a little more than she could handle.” So ‘that’ had been the tower, the nukes and an invasion but those details could be sorted out later. “But Grandpa’s still so worried about her.”

“I don’t understand. If he didn’t talk to you than –“

“It’s a small town.” The cider was delicious and she was probably drinking it faster than she should so Charlie forced herself to put the bottle on the counter. “Sorry, if you’d rather not talk about it, I can understand.”

Marion didn’t reply but her jaw clenched and she dropped her head with a bitter laugh. “What’s there to talk about? He picked his daughter. And he made it pretty clear a few days ago that we were done.”

“Um, yeah,” Connor said, finally looking up. “I probably owe you an apology. I overheard part of your conversation and I mentioned it to Charlie.”

“Well I appreciate you stopping by, but there’s not much to say on the subject.” Her tone and posture said she felt anything but appreciation. “Gene’s going to stay with his family. Where he belongs.”

“You know,” Charlie felt herself start to smile. “It always amazes me how people give such a narrow definition to family. I used to do that. . .and then I realize some of the best family I’ve ever had never shared blood with me.” Aaron, Nora, Maggie.

“I’m competing with a dead ghost and a live. . . .” she trailed off as if trying to come up with a description of Rachel that wasn’t too harsh but finally abandoned the effort.”I’m just all kinds of fucked.” Marion had grace to blush and Charlie nodded.

“I know if seems strange to say I understand that. . .but you’ve met my boyfriend, right?”

“James. Yeah. Surprisingly good cook for someone so decorative. You scored there.”

“He had a wife, not long after the blackout. She died in childbirth. And if you think there aren’t days I don’t compete against her, well. . .you’d be wrong.” Marion looked surprised. “Though I’d appreciate if that didn’t get spread around. He doesn’t like to talk about her.” She got a nod from the bartender but made a mental note to mention the conversation to Bass. It wouldn’t be the first but of history James had in common with Bass and since she’d never heard it even whispered about Bass she wasn’t worried about the story connecting them. “But no matter how much he misses her – and there are days he does – she’s dead and I’m not. It’s not the I’ happy that she died. If she hadn’t, we’d never have been together and I never would have known what I was missing with him. But it’s no sin for me to be alive.”

“He seems to think so, some days. And she would.”

Charlie snorted. “She’s sleeping with her dead husband’s brother. There is no such thing as moral high ground in this.”

Marion looked startled. “I thought that was just a rumor. Are you okay with that? Didn’t your Dad just die a few years ago?”

“Not a rumor. I’m not surprised. They had an affair before I was born.” She could see the fresh speculation in Marion’s eyes as she glanced between Charlie and Connor. She was probably coming to the conclusion that the baby Rachel had lost that had driven her insane had been their half-sibling. She wondered if she needed to mention it to Miles or Rachel and decided that needed more debate. “And my parents hadn’t been together for nine years before Dad died. He thought she was dead. He’d moved on himself. My step-mother’s name was Maggie and she died a few months after Dad. Bled out in my arms from being attacked by a psychopath. Which was hard but at least I got to tell her how much she meant to me. I’d always been kind of angry at her, growing up. But she was always there for me and it meant everything that I got to tell her that. But it was hard . . . on Dad, on me, on Maggie. And I am thankful every day that she didn’t get sick of us and leave. That she stuck around, even when I didn’t want her to. So maybe give my grandfather another chance.”

Marion looked startled. “Are you . . . you want what? I would think you’d be trying to get me to move on down the road.”

“In favor of a woman who died six years ago? I want my grandfather to be happy. Not stuck in his grief in the past.” Charlie swallowed the last of her cider.

“I . . . I don’t even know what to say?” Marion looked totally confused and Charlie smiled at her.

“Don’t need to say anything. Just think about it. How much for the drinks?”

Marion waved at her as she reached for the pouch she kept in her jacket. “It’s on me.”

“No,” Charlie said. “How much?”

Marion arched one eyebrow and Charlie grinned at the look. “So you can come talk to me about being family and accepting? But I have to treat Gene’s granddaughter like she’s just another customer?” There was warning in her tone but also gratitude and Charlie laughed.

“Okay, point taken. The cider was wonderful. Thank you. You’ll think about what I said?”

Marion nodded. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“Not a clue. But I’ll make you a deal. Think about it. And I’ll take care of my mother.”

Marion nodded and Charlie stood, Connor following her out. It wasn’t until they were back in the sunshine that he turned to her. “You’re not really going to tell Rachel, are you?”

“I like her.”

“You’re not really going to tell Rachel, are you?” He sounded more insistent and she turned to him.

“I like her. I think . . . I think I see why my grandfather likes her too. And if he’s too afraid my mother is going to go nuts again, then he needs to learn my mother is stronger than he thinks she is. And, like I said, she’s sleeping with Miles. She can not-like it all she wants . . . but she’s a howling hypocrite if she thinks he’s doing anything wrong.”

“You are going to tell her.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a Bass gesture that caught at her heart for a moment and she felt a rush of longing to see what similar traits their children developed. She was most certainly ovulating, she decided. Which might explain her reckless mood to try to make everyone else happy. Her grandfather was not going to thank her for this. At least not for a while.

“Yes, I am.” She sounded more determined than she had planned and realized she was walking fast and slowed on purpose.

“Oh, please let me be there when you do.” That was another trait of Bass’; deep curiosity to see how people were going to react. Or maybe it was like watching a disaster when you didn’t want to see it but yet couldn’t look away. That moment before horses tangled or a wagon smashed. She wondered for a moment if it might be too much for Rachel but she brushed it aside. Her mother had proven herself stronger than they’d given her credit and it was a disservice to still treat her like she was sick or insane.

She grinned at him as they turned down the road that led to Gene’s house. “Oh, absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was solely meant to be transition into some political stuff that I meant to debut at the end of it. . .but this whole domestic gaggle sometimes derails the action and that was what happened to the entire chapter. Jeremy and Charlie's conversation and Charlie's nightmare were totally new. The Gene/Marion relationship revelation has been something that's been stewing around since Why We Fight. I intended to originally bring it out at the dance but totally forgot about it (I got distracted by ACDC and Queen) so I decided to have Connor have overheard them arguing about it and he brings it up to Charlie. I decided to get her out of the house and down to visit Marion because I think right now that focusing on someone else's issues helps distract her from her own nightmares.
> 
> I am looking forward to writing Charlie breaking it to Rachel that Gene's has a significant other and I'm not quite sure how that's going to go. I don't think she's going to take it as well as Charlie . . . but she's also not going to take it as badly as Gene expects (as Charlie points out, she doesn't have moral high ground). I'm hoping to be able to make it funny but we'll see how it comes out.


	33. Chapter 33

Rachel was in the kitchen making bread when they walked into the house, Carissa seated at the table watching her. “What are you doing home so early?” Charlie asked. “Thought you were working today.”

“Everyone is going a little crazy down there,” Carissa complained. “Between Horn’s estimated arrival in two weeks and Texas’ latest crop of nasty letters. . .in fact, leaving the question open for debate if we’re even going to be here is two weeks; and won’t Horn have a sweet fit if he travels all this way only to have us pulling back and he can’t talk to Rachel. His latest letter of instruction is full of the most crazy contradictions. One sentence he’s demanding she be picked up and held – he’s the one who issued the warrant, by the way – until he arrives and a little further down the page he’s saying no one should try to talk to her till he gets here and can do it himself. Back and forth. Fortunately he ended with directions to leave you alone.”

“Doesn’t sound promising,” Connor said. “And you guys listen to this person?”

“Well he’s always been creepy. But he’s normally at least logical.” Carissa shrugged. “But now know why he’s coming. His physician sent a very long letter regarding his health. He’s dying of a brain tumor. He heard about Aaron and he’s coming to try to get healed.”

“He’s coming for Aaron?” Fear made Charlie’s voice sharp. “How did he hear about him?”

“Not for Aaron,” Rachel said softly, but there was amusement in her voice. “For me. Sounds like he thinks I was the one that healed Aaron.”

“Oh.” Charlie dropped into a chair. “I guess that makes sense. Sort of.”

Rachel shrugged. “Apparently this guy worked for the DoD, something in the project but it couldn’t have been much because I certainly don’t remember him. Maybe when I actually see what he looks like.”

“But at any rate,” Carissa sighed, “I volunteered to come back and talk to Rachel and Truman practically shoved me out the door. He kept Jeremy though. That surprised me a little. Promised him back in a few hours and I can’t wait to know what he’s asking him that he’s not telling me about.”

“How long ago was this?” Charlie asked.

“I got back about an hour ago. And yes, Miles already knows all about it.”

Rachel and Charlie both smiled at her exaggerated drawl. “Figured that out, huh?” Charlie laughed and Carissa snorted.

“That every single thing I’ve said since I moved in here has gotten reported to Miles? Yeah.”

“Oh, long before you moved in,” Rachel said, sprinkling flour across the counter and turning the dough out of the bowl and kneading it. It still surprised Charlie that Rachel – who hadn’t had anything to do with housekeeping in over a decade – managed to make some of the best bread Charlie had ever eaten. She’d been secretly pleased growing up – and slightly annoyed that such a domestic skill pleased her – that her bread had always been good. But Rachel’s was far better, even if her talents seemed limited to that and cakes.”

“So where have you guys been?” Carissa asked and Charlie watched Connor wince. She almost laughed because sometimes he was so open with his emotions it was possible to tell exactly what he was thinking. However, she thought back to when they had first met and he had been so closed off he’d been completely unreadable and she wondered if he had no ability to moderate the talent – all or nothing – or if he was just not bothering to try around them.

“We took a walk into town. Stopped for a drink. I wanted to talk to Marion.”

Carissa was looking around the kitchen, clearly deciding the question didn’t matter but Rachel looked up. “Marion Kelly? I didn’t know you knew her.”

“Not well. But apparently she and Grandpa had a fight at the dance on Friday and I thought it was time I met her.”

Rachel’s forehead creased and Carissa laughed. “Didn’t know Gene fought with people. Over what?”

“Oh, the usual. Apparently they’d been dating and he put it on hold when we came back because Mom was so sick but she’s better and he’s still blowing her off.” She and Rachel locked gazes around Carissa and Charlie watched Rachel turn white, then flush.

Carissa exhaled, turning her head to look at Rachel. “You know, when I ask these incredibly socially awkward questions it’s okay to lie to me and say ‘nothing’ or ‘I wanted to get her spice cake recipe.’”

Rachel hadn’t stopped kneading the bread but her movements had gotten jerky.

“Well, I was going to have a hard time working up the courage to tell her anyway. Wasn’t going to waste that sort of opening,” Charlie admitted and she rose to walk over to the counter. “They started seeing each other a few years ago. Long after Grandma died. But he’s scared you’re not going to react well and go nuts again. I think you’re stronger than that.”

“Clearly,” Rachel snapped, her voice the brittle edge that felt like a knife, carving at someone. “But sorry if I’m not absolutely thrilled my father is sleeping with someone else.” Charlie raised one eyebrow but said nothing and Rachel’s blush turned a few shades pinker. “Okay, maybe that’s a little hypocritical.”

“Try a lot hypocritical. Granted, you’re allowed to not like it. But you still have to support it. And him. He’s put his life on hold for us and we owe it to him to accept that he had a life between the Blackout and last spring.”

“Unless he wanted to break up and is just using you for an excuse,” Carissa commented. “I’ve heard of that before.”

“Then he can just tell her that,” Charlie said. “But if we keep treating my mother like she’s some delicate little flower who can’t handle the big bad world – or even just her father having a normal relationship – what does that say about who we are.”

“I just think it may be a bad time to add another person to the mix,” Rachel said. She rolled the dough back into a ball and dropped it in the bowl that she covered with a cloth.

“And you may be right about that. But you need to talk to Grandpa.”

“And say what? Glad you’re sleeping with other people? Because I don’t care how hypocritical it is, I’m not totally sure I’m okay with it.” She wrinkled her nose. “At least give me a day or so to think about it.”

Charlie shrugged. “Works for me. I just thought someone owed it to you to tell you and not treat you like you’re –“

“A delicate flower. Yeah, I got that. Thanks.” She glanced over at Carissa as she wiped her hands on a towel. “This is what happens when you marry a Matheson. You end up having children that aren’t phased by anything. I was supposed to be dead and my son – who I hadn’t seen he was ten knew who I was immediately, gave me a hug and that was that. Charlie took a few more minutes to come to terms with it but then she just yelled at me because I was feeling sorry for myself. Doesn’t matter what it is. Nuclear bombs, me sleeping with her uncle, her grandfather sleeping with the bartender, kidnapping presidents, burning bodies or Cynthia still being covered in blood from having her throat cut. Charlie. . .just moves on.” But Rachel paused in front of her and touched her shoulder, a feathery touch. “Sometimes I wish I could be more like her.”

It was a compliment that made Charlie smile but she realized it was one she couldn’t return. She could see her mother in herself at times, respected her, admired her, sometimes even feared her. But she could not honestly say that she had ever wanted to be more like Rachel. 

“Well,” Carissa said, shrugging one shoulder. “You did try to sleep with her man. But since it was before they were together, does that count? Or does that mean she’s trying to copy you?”

There was a slightly stunned silence and Connor glanced between the three of them. He finally turned to Carissa, “You say that sort of stuff on purpose to see how we react, right? I used to think you did it on accident but there is no way one person could put their foot so far down their throat so many times in a row.”

Carissa was blushing but she started nodding slowly, her grin wry. “Busted. Would you believe it’s a little of both. I used to just blurt out things like that all the time; made it very awkward for my parents. I eventually learned to keep my mouth shut and not say everything I thought – that sucked, by the way. Later I found it could be useful when you wanted to get information out of people they didn’t want to give you; when you embarrass them, they usually tried to correct you.”

It made sense, Charlie realized, and she was startled she hadn’t thought of it earlier. “So what,” Connor asked, “were you trying to learn that night you were asking about my Mom? Unless you suspected who my Dad was and were fishing.”

“I’d already talked myself out of that. . .and I bought that you were Miles’ kid. But I thought he or Charlie had killed your mother to try to kill Monroe and were hiding that from you.”

“So just now?” Rachel asked and Carissa shrugged.

“Still probing a little to see if this is going to cause issues. I’m betraying a lot of people I’ve known a very long time because I believe you are right . . . but as I’ve said, I need to know you’re going to still be there for me when shit hits the fan, not all hell and gone because you can’t stand each other.”

“She’s my mother,” Charlie shrugged. “She and I are going to be stuck together for a very long time. No matter who she sleeps with; Bass, Miles or otherwise.” Except Carissa did have a point. She’d bailed after the Tower because she’d not forgiven Rachel for Nora’s death and – if she really thought about it, putting turning the power on above everything else. She remembered the day Rachel had left for the Tower, intent on giving everyone else the same advantage as Monroe. Rachel had been so sure that she was going to die on the way or there, emphasizing to Charlie that they would never see each other again. She’d felt meaningless to Rachel that day; even more so when she’d begged her mother to help her save Nora and Rachel had blown her off -- taking the access card and Aaron -- leaving Charlie in a room with her friend bleeding to death. Charlie had even nearly died before Nora, fighting with a Militia Soldier until Miles had stabbed the man in the throat. She wondered what combination of expressions ran across her face because all three of them were staring at her like they were nervous and she forced a smile. “As for Connor, if he chooses his own way, that’s up to him. But he’ll always be my family, no matter what.”

She didn’t imagine she and Bass would be leaving each other. They were both too hung up on their families, their pasts and terror that everyone they loved would leave them. But even if the unlikely occurred, Connor had earned his own place by her fire.

“Which isn’t to say we still don’t need to talk about that sometime,” Rachel commended wryly.

“Eventually. But I’m still not in the mood for that discussion.”

“You having sex with him again?” Carissa asked. It wasn’t, Charlie realized just an idle question.

“Since Wednesday night.” If she wanted to be technical, not until early Thursday morning, but the earlier time sounded better and it had been space between the window and the door of the bedroom rather than any emotional distance. And she supposed she could count their mutual release as sex, even if they hadn’t been touching each other.

Carissa grimaced. “Well, that’s something. Jeremy insisted you had to be but I wasn’t so sure.” She held out her hands, palms outward. “I saw your face, when Rachel said she tried to seduce him. And I really thought --”

“Nah,” Charlie shrugged, trying to make her voice sound casual. “If you want the third wheel in Bass and my relationship, it’s not my Mom.”

“Emma? Or that lady who died with the baby?”

Charlie shook her head and Carissa slapped her palm into her own forehead. “Oh, of course. How stupid of me. Miles.”

“Exactly.” Well, Charlie decided, they hadn’t picked Carissa because they thought she was stupid. It was a wonder, she realized, they’d managed to fool her as long as they had. “It took . . . a while for us to have anything else in common.” Other than the fact they’d appreciated each other in bed, but she wasn’t going to say that in front of Rachel. It had been real – her justification that she just wanted to have sex with him so she could stop dreading it. And their first encounter had been embarrassing and even painful at first. The second had also been justified in the name of maintaining a distraction. But the third had been purely for herself, even if it had started because they’d been kissing in front of his window for everyone to see. No, she decided, not everything needed said out loud.

 

Gene was in his office when Charlie walked into the surgery, bending over some books. He glanced up when he shut the door. “Hey, Charlie. You feeling okay? You’ve looked a little pale the last few days.”

“I wish everyone would stop fussing over me. I’m fine.” They’d all had short sleep shifts recently but – as much as she hated to admit it, even to herself – she slept better when she and Bass were sharing a bed. The nights he had slept on the floor with Miles she’d reverted to her old habit of dozing fitfully, trying to listen to Danny’s breathing.

“Hmm, waking the entire house screaming might indicate otherwise.”

“Bad dreams and a guilty conscious will do that sometimes.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Charlie, what could you have to feel guilty about? You’re the most blameless person in this whole mess.”

She almost smiled at the list of possible choices that presented itself. Sleeping with Bass Monroe, guilt-tripping Miles into fighting Monroe, being there when Randal bombed Atlanta and Philadelphia, the many people she had killed to try to get her brother back – only to watch him die in front of her because he was trying to save her. None of it, she decided, was anything she wanted to talk about. “So, Connor told me about an interesting conversation he overheard between you and Marion on Friday.”

Gene turned grayish and he glanced around like he was afraid someone else was listening. “What. . .did he tell you.”

“Sounds like the two of you were an item until we showed up.”

Gene dropped his head into his hands. “Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out about that.” He glanced up. “Well, not . . . I don’t want Rachel to know about it. She wouldn’t . . . she’s so much better but I don’t want to add that on top of everything and – “

“Grandpa, you do know Mom is sleeping with Miles, right?”

He snorted and nodded. “That’s different.”

She walked over and ignored the chair he pointed at in favor of hitching her hip over the corner of his desk. She kept one leg on the floor but swung the other, idly listening to the tap of her boot against the wood. 

“How?”

“I’m not sure. But it is.”

Charlie laughed. “She’s able to handle it, you know? Besides, what are you going to do? Be alone for the rest of your life because you being with someone might upset your daughter? Really, how’s that good for either of you?” He grunted, looking around the office. “And how’s that fair to Marion? She seems really nice. Probably more forgiving than you deserve.”

He turned to glare at her. “And how would you know that?”

“Connor and I got thirsty. I can see why you like that cider. It’s good.”

“You went to talk to her?” He looked around again and the nervous motion almost made Charlie laugh.

“I did. She was a little surprised. And a little annoyed with you, if you want me to be honest. But she also is willing to talk things over if you’re willing to pull your head out of your ass. Granted,” Charlie shrugged, “Connor suggested maybe you wanted to break up with her and were using us as an excuse.” She saw the way Gene looked, his shoulder slumped and eyes shut and the slight shake of his head. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

‘I thought I was going to lose her. Rachel. When Miles brought her here. I . . . she couldn’t handle having . . . and then you left and she . . . .”

“Was she living here?”

Gene shook his head but he glanced around. “No . . . not really.”

“So that’s why all Grandma’s clothes were in the sewing room?”

“I actually did that a few months after she died. Opening the closet every day and seeing them. It just got to be too much. And she’d never officially moved it. Just . . . spent more time here than at her place. We’d been joking about maybe getting married. And she understood, when Rachel came back. She really did. But as the months went on . . .I guess she stopped being willing to wait.”

She’d never really known how much time it had taken to walk from the Tower to Texas – close to a month, she figured. It had been April, she was pretty sure, when they’d arrived in Willoughby and she’d left again in mid-June. “Grandpa, it’s February. Which means she’s been waiting ten months.”

“Doesn’t feel like that long. Seems like just yesterday Sheriff Mason was calling me to the gate saying someone wanted to see me. But your mom –“

“Mom will be sarcastic and a pain in the ass for a few days. But she’ll be fine.”

“Promise me you won’t say anything to her.”

She smiled. “Which is why I talked to her before I talked to you. Kind of hard to promise not to do something that’s already done.”

He turned ashen. “You. . .” he whispered. “Charlie. She’s--”

“She’s fine.” She leaned over to drop her hand on his shoulder. “Really. A little annoyed, sure. But not suicidal. She won’t be fine you keep treating her like this.” He didn’t look convinced but his color was better. 

“I should probably go talk to her,” he muttered.

“You should probably go talk to both of them. Maybe not together at first.” She grinned at the glare he directed at her.

“You take the ‘better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ thing to a whole new level, don’t you?” he muttered and she laughed.

“What’s to forgive? Besides, you missed a perfect opportunity that first day with me and Bass. You could have told her you were sleeping with just about anyone and I doubt she would have even noticed. Not that you were sleeping with Marion then because –“ The look he shot her was priceless and she started to laugh. “Seriously? You’ve been sneaking off to meet Marion this whole time?”

“A few times a week, yeah, I have. Why do you think she’s so mad at me?”

Charlie had one arm wrapped around her stomach, the forearm pressed to her face as she bent over, trying not to laugh hard enough to attract attention. She finally stood, wiping tears from the corner or her eyes as she walked around the desk to lean over Gene’s shoulder. “Okay, maybe leave that part out when you talk to Mom.”

“No shit.” He sounded annoyed but one of his arms wrapped around hers. “She’s going to kill me.”

Charlie shrugged. “Not sure which one you’re talking about, but I doubt it. On the other hand,” she stood, grinning at him as she sauntered towards the door as casually as she could, “when they start ganging up on you, you might wish they had.”

She was pretty sure it was the first time she’d ever heard her grandfather use the f-word.

 

Gene wasn’t at dinner and Rachel’s mouth was pinched into thin line and she was slamming plates, glasses and silverwear. Connor – seated next to her – was sitting as close to Jeremy on his other side as he could scoot his chair, shoulders hunched, as if trying to look small. Carissa also – for once – didn’t make any comments and Charlie wondered if she’d keep it up now that they knew what she was doing. She was actually impressed by Connor’s insight. She had never actually questioned the Captain’s ability to say the most awkward thing possible in any given situation. It would be trick, she decided, she might have to use herself.

Miles was glancing between her and Rachel, eyebrows scrunching in thought and she was pretty sure he thought Rachel was mad at him and she just smirked at him. They made it mostly through dinner before Rachel knocked over the salt shaker reaching for her water glass. It only spilled a few grains but she swore, and Miles set his fork back on the table.

“Alright, Rachel. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her mother crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at Charlie caught the pleading look behind the scowl.

“It’s not nothing. Because you don’t act like this when there’s nothing. You two haven’t been fighting, have you?” He glanced between them again and Connor flinched, like he was expecting her to say something. Miles had every right to know what was going on. They all did, living in such cramped quarters. But making sure Gene and Rachel talked was one thing. Telling everyone else what was bothering her mother was actually up to Rachel.

“Not with each other,’ Charlie answered, smiling at him and he sighed.

“See why does that not reassure me.” He glanced towards Gene’s empty chair, then back at Rachel.

“Fine, you want to know? My father is off sleeping with another woman,” Rachel spat and Jeremy ducked his head, suddenly very concerned with wiping something off his mouth. Bass looked startled and Miles just groaned like he had a headache. He probably did, Charlie decided.

It was Jeremy who recovered first. “Well, that’s not such a bad thing. Unless you’d prefer him to be sleeping with a man?” The look she directed at him showed how little she appreciated his humor but he just shrugged. “And ‘another’ implies he’s cheating on someone. But since I’m pretty sure this family doesn’t do incest – at least not the genetic kind--“

“Oh shut up,” Rachel snapped. “You want me to say my mother has been dead for years so it shouldn’t matter. Fine. It doesn’t matter. Except to me.” The last was almost a whisper and Charlie was surprised that it was Connor who scooted his chair over and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Believe it or not, I understand that. Your Mom’s been dead for years but you’ve just found out not so long ago and you haven’t gotten used to it yet.”

Charlie remembered the choking sobs that had wracked her when she’d finally accepted Rachel wasn’t coming back. How for months and years she’d thought of things to say; that she wanted to tell Rachel or ask her and the words would almost come before she realized there was no one to say them to. Ben had waited years before he had started dating Maggie and Charlie had still been angry about it. For Rachel, the knowledge that her mother had been dead was less than a year old. Of course, she realized, Connor would be the one to understand. Emma had died over a year ago and yet he was just weeks into learning about it.

She hadn’t been wrong, she decided, to make Rachel and Gene talk. But she probably did need to go easier on her for a few days.

“Um, who?” Bass asked and Rachel glared at him. “Look, it might be important at some point.”

“Marion Kelly. She owns the bar.”

Bass didn’t react but Miles’ eyebrows rose. “Marion? Really? Wow. I’m actually kind of surprise.” He grunted as Rachel punched him in the arm but it wasn’t hard and her lips twitched. “She’s at least a decade younger than he is. “ She turned and glared at Bass. “Which I expect you sympathize with.”

“No comment.” But he turned and smiled at Charlie. 

“Alright, can we move on?” Rachel asked. She sighed. “And if anyone wants to know, part of the reason I’m being such a bitch is because I did talk to my father earlier,” she glared at Charlie. “And I told if he was dating a woman that was fine with me. I . . . just didn’t expect him go have dinner with her.”

“Isn’t this going to make it harder on them both,” Carissa asked. “When you go?”

Rachel sighed again. “That’s something he’ll have to figure out. We did talk about not bringing her around much and he agreed that it’s better if he spends more time at her house. Us all packed in here is a great excuse – no privacy – so she hopefully won’t pick up on anything strange. He’s promised not to say anything without talking to Miles first so OpSec shouldn’t be a problem.”

Jeremy grinned. “I’d say you’ve been hanging out with Miles too much. But I love it when you talk dirty like that.”

“Please,” Miles sneered, “OpSec is an every-other-service concept. Marines didn’t have to come up with catch-phrases to keep their mouths shut.” Bass snorted, raising one eyebrow and Miles shrugged. “Other than that.” Bass just smiled and Charlie was about to ask what they were talking about when the back door opened and Gene came in, an obviously reluctant Marion trailing behind him.

Charlie shoved her chair away from the table, standing to cover the fact that Rachel had that blank look on her face but then it was gone and Rachel was smiling. “Hey, Dad. Didn’t think we’d be seeing you so early. Marion, how are you tonight?”

“Good. Thanks. I . . . had some blackberry preserves I needed to use so I was going to send two pies home with Gene but he insisted I come too.” She looked nervous but Rachel moved to take the pie Gene was holding and Connor was there to take the one from Marion.

“They look delicious. We just finished dinner, did you guys eat yet?”

“Yes,” Gene said. He was looking a little worried but then he nodded at Rachel as if assured she was doing alright.

Connor had taken Marion’s pie, Charlie noticed. He’s just grabbed the woman herself and dragged her over to the counter, pulling out a knife and handing it to her while he went to grab plates. In the general confusion and exclamations, Charlie walked over and touched Rachel’s shoulder. “You okay?” she murmured.

Rachel’s smile definitely had an edge but there was humor in her eyes. “Thought you said I was stronger than this?”

“You are. But doesn’t mean it isn’t still a little weird sometimes.” She’d never really talked about Maggie around Rachel, she realized. But she grabbed Rachel’s hand and they squeezed fingers before Rachel stood and walked over to take the plate Carissa handed her. 

“Wow, this is delicious,” she exclaimed on her first bite. “Marion, I hope I can get the recipe from you.

It was just pie, Charlie decided, taking the plate Jeremy handed her and trying it. It was good, true, but there was nothing to it beyond what she’d had before and she almost smiled at her mother’s using flattery to start a conversation. It was such a normal-person thing to do that is surprised her and she met Gene’s eyes to see he had noticed the same thing. She walked over to him and leaned against his arm. “Changed you mind, I see.”

He shrugged and leaned close to her. “You had a point. Maybe I was coddling her too much. It just seemed like a good idea.”

Jeremy had taken over the conversation, asking about the berries and where the best places to pick were around Willoughby and already talking about maybe a picnic in the summer and would Marion help them can what they could find; as if they were all just a normal – if unusually extended – family who still be in Willoughby in the summer. It was excellent conversation and distraction but Charlie met Miles eyes and he shook his head, just slightly, lips tilting up just slightly as he was watching Jeremy. It sounded like such a lovely life, Charlie decided. Just not one that – despite the last few months – she was probably going to get.

 

Gene took Marion back home early, and Rachel stopped smiling the instant they walked out the door. Rachel had participated in a lot of the conversation Jeremy had kept going – mostly asking questions about cooking and brewing – but though they had been friendly, both women had seemed a little unsure of each other. But for a first meeting since finding out they had more in common than they realized, Charlie thought it had gone pretty well.

Rachel helped Bass clean up, washing the pie plates without even a lot of excess aggression but Charlie still saw her relax just a little more when Gene walked back into the kitchen. He ignored everyone else and walked over, wrapping his arms around Rachel. “Thank you, Sweetheart. I know that was hard for you. But thank you.”

Rachel nodded against him and Charlie felt a rush of pride as her mother forced a smile. “She’s nice. I’m glad you’re happy, Dad.”

“Thanks.” He turned to Charlie and shook his head. “And to you too. Though I still wonder what you were thinking.”

Charlie shrugged. “Just that we don’t have to stop living because someone we love dies. Even when we want to.” It was practically a description of her life, she realized.

Bass finished wiping the last plate and put it back in the cupboard and everyone started scattering towards the stairs. Rachel paused, pulling a glass and pouring herself a drink of water and Charlie leaned on the counter next to her. “So, how are you really doing?”

Rachel frowned at the glass as she took a stip. “Honestly. I did better than I thought I would. I wasn’t lying when I said she was nice and I’m glad he’s happy. But . . . it still feels really weird. I mean, my father, dating?” Charlie touched her elbow and Rachel sighed. “I just want to think about it a little more before I talk about it. Are you okay with that?”

Charlie couldn’t help the smile and Rachel’s brows arched in question. “That,” she explained, “is exactly how I feel about the conversation you and I still need to have about you and Bass. So yeah, I get it.”

 

Carissa and Jeremy were back early the next day and Bass made sandwiches again, deciding to save the stew he was simmering for Sunday lunch. 

“I think,” Carissa sighed, her voice a little plaintive as she looked over at Jeremy, “that it’s time we break up.” Everyone around the table stared at her.

“What, now?” Jeremy asked, frowning and she shook her head.

“Hell no. I have tomorrow off and I intend to enjoy it. No, I’m thinking Monday we should be all moody and snappish when we get back to work and I can go in Tuesday with my stuff and announce we are officially over.”

“What’s the cause,” Charlie asked and Carissa shrugged, glancing at Miles.

“Would you mind horribly if I found out he was cheating on me with you?”

Jeremy started to laugh. “I thought you’d told Truman you’d figured out we were just messing with you.”

“I found out my first instincts had been right.”

Miles shrugged, grimacing. “That could work. But this is Rachel’s home town and we may want to come back to visit sometimes and I’d hate to be forever branded as that SOB who couldn’t stay faithful.”

“What about you two got drunk and cheated. She forgives you, I don’t?”

Rachel smiled slightly. “An old lover. . .I might be willing to show mercy. Particularly given your history with Jeremy.”

“Thanks. I think.” Miles shrugged. “What the hell, go for it.”

“Um.” Connor cleared his throat. “What about. . .what about if Jeremy cheated on Carissa with me?” They all turned to stare at him and Charlie saw him flush under the combined gaze of seven people. “It actually kind of fits; Miles’ son and all that. And it’s not like I ever need to come back here either. And granted, it sounds like we’re leaving soon but if I can go into town without tripping over Tracy Bentley and her friends, I’m perfectly okay to play the home-wrecker.” He grabbed his plate and carried it over to the sink.

Jeremy looked thoughtful, glancing between Miles and Connor. “He’s a little young for me. . .but Truman doesn’t know that. Sure, I’d tap that.”

Connor blushed at Jeremy’s sudden smirk but he threw back his shoulders. “That’s right, old man. You could get so lucky to get a piece of this.” It reminded Charlie of the attitude she’d seen from him in Mexico but he started laughing. “Okay, I need to work on that. It sounded a lot better in my head.”

“I certainly hope so, because that was awful,” Miles declared but he walked over and nudged Connor’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Kid. I’ll owe you one.”

“Maybe,” Jeremy said, “you’d better just let me do all the talking.”

Connor nodded. “Yeah, that may be best.”

“There go my plans to be a grandfather,” Bass commented and Charlie could tell from his smirk he was joking but Connor’s eyes widened.

“Oh, hell no. You want grandkids, you start working on my siblings. Because I am not breeding just to make you happy.”

“Thought that was what I was doing for you?” Charlie commented. 

“Yeah, but that’s because you promised. Consider it my incentive to leave Nunez.” Charlie smiled, turning her head to where neither Bass nor Connor could see her. She’d told Bass just a few nights ago that knitted lace had been her best bribe but she’d also not thought of the fact that was exactly what she had done with Connor.

“So now I just have to come up with something you want,” Bass said slowly but Connor shook his head. 

“Nope. The only thing I wanted was the Republic. . .and after hearing everything I have about it, no fucking way do I want to go down that road.”

“Smart,” Jeremy agreed. “But don’t insist like that. It makes it feel like you’ve thrown down the gauntlet and they’re going to pick it up. Be more casual. More like, ‘yeah, not really sure about kids.’” His shoulder relaxed and he tilted his head. “’Maybe when I meet the right person.’ If you stick with that, people are less likely to either try to call you on it or try to prove you wrong.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

Jeremy grabbed Carissa’s hand. “Well, as we’re limited to the next 24 more hours. . .I have a massage I need to give.”

“Damn, I’m going to miss you,” Carissa sighed. “But aren’t there some details we need to get straight? Like when do you cheat on me and do I walk in on it?”

“As you said,” Jeremy leaned in to kiss the side of her neck, “you have tomorrow off. I’ll come up with something.”

“Fair enough.” They left the room still holding hands and Gene shook his head.

“I wonder if . . . never mind. Rachel, I want to go check on Annette and Isabelle. Do you want to come with me?” Charlie wondered if it was the baby he really wanted to check on or just that he was just hoping to get more time alone with Rachel to make sure she was alright with him dating another woman.

“Sure. Let me go grab my coat.” Miles followed her out of the room as Gene muttered something about grabbing his bag.

“You know,” Bass asked and Charlie heard the hesitation in his voice. “Connor, I always just assumed . . . maybe it’s none of my business and if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine . . . .”

Connor’s entire face showed his confusion for a moment before he turned to stare at Bass. “What are you talking about?”

“If you prefer guys, I just want you to know I’m okay with that.”

“Is that what you think?” Charlie bit her tongue to keep from smiling. She didn’t think she had ever seen Bass looking so embarrassed.

“No. I never really thought about it before. Just assumed you were straight. I know you’re doing this for Miles and I know he and Rachel really appreciate it. And it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me but I just want you to know that . . .well, I just want you to know I’m. . .going to be there for you. No matter what.”

He’d almost said I love you, Charlie realized. But he hadn’t. Nor had he glanced at her like he was checking for her reaction. She’d always assumed the reason he hadn’t said it was before he knew she wasn’t ready. She hadn’t considered that he was just as scared of it as she was because admitting it also opened the possibility that what you loved could be taken away from you.

She turned her head away, hoping he’d think she was trying not to smile, but she felt throat close and she choked back the knot in her throat. It was an incredible relief to know that she wasn’t the only one who was scared.

“Thanks, Dad. Nice to know.” Connor’s voice sarcastic but considering how little Connor called Bass anything, she hoped Bass realized it was a good thing. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide to bring you home a son-in-law. But no, I like girls. I just prefer not to get attached to them.”

Bass snorted. “Well, I’m sure there is some lecture I should be giving -- but considering what I was like at your age – that’d probably be hypocritical of me. But maybe just – like Jeremy said – don’t shut yourself off the possibility that one day you change your mind.”

“Okay. Deal. Now can we please change the subject?”

“Yes, please.” The relief was evident in both their voices and Bass looked around. “Um, I’m going to go. . .get some more firewood.” Charlie glanced over at the full woodbox but she only smiled at him as he walked out.

“Wow,” Connnor exhaled. “That was awkward.”

“It was sweet though.” She yawned. “Want to take bets he comes back empty handed?”

“Nope.” Connor glanced at her. “You okay? You looked a little weird there for a second.”

She felt her eyebrows raise, surprised he had noticed. “Me? No, I’m fine.” Debating the merits of actually declaring ‘I love you’ to Bass with his son probably wasn’t the best idea, she decided. The last thing she needed was him dwelling on the same concept. “That was really nice, what you’re doing for Miles and my Mom.”

“Just seemed maybe it was time I started pulling my weight around here. I mean, other than the fact I dusted, swept and mopped the whole lower floor today. I thought that was pretty impressive. It’s okay,” he leaned towards her, “isn’t it? That I joke about you guys having kids? I hope you don’t think I’m trying to rush you because I totally understand why you’re waiting. But it’s kind of fun to tease him about.” He grinned. “Well, and you too.”

She smiled at him. “No. It’s fine. I actually kind of enjoy it . . . knowing that someday I’ll . . . I’ll never be able to replace the family I’ve lost. But I think it will be nice to add to it.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I see what you mean.” He looked terrified but he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head, one of his hands patting awkwardly at her elbow. She started to stand but his other hand moved to her shoulder and while he didn’t hold her down, she could tell he was hoping she’d stay in her seat and she moved her hands to his forearms. 

The angle couldn’t have been very comfortable but he stayed like that, forehead pressed into her hair and she felt him shake with silent cries and she couldn’t stop her own tears from coming. For Ben, Danny, Maggie, Nora. Even for Emma, who she’d only seen for a few brief moments through the site of a rifle.

He finally straightened, though he left one hand on her shoulder, the other going to his back. “Ow.”

“Should have let me stand up, Stupid,” she said, wiping at her eyes and he smiled.

“Yeah. I should have. But. . .this is going to sound really dumb. I didn’t really want hugged . . . but I kind of needed to hug someone.”

“No, it doesn’t sound stupid.”

“Thanks.” He glanced at the kitchen door. “I think I’m going to head for bed. Before he gets back. Spare the awkward conversation about him supporting me. Though it was kind of sweet.”

She nodded, letting her hand trail down his arm as he walked away. He was nothing like Danny, but sometimes the way they treated each other reminded her a little of her brother and it made her miss him with an ache that was nearly physical. Yet she loved those moments because of how close they made her feel to her brother, even though he was gone. She wondered, sometimes, what Danny would have thought of Bass, if he’d have ever have had a chance to meet the man behind General Monroe. People had always thought – because he’d been so much quieter – that Danny had been the sweet one. She had been willing to take the blame for most of his escapades – to let people think she’d dragged him into something. But her brother had actually been surprisingly tough for how sick he had often been. 

She heard the door open and turned to see Bass coming into the kitchen. “Connor go to bed?”

“Yeah.” She hadn’t thought she was crying but she heard it in her voice and he came over to wrap his arms around her.

“You okay? He didn’t upset you did he?” She shook her head and felt him kiss her hair. “Well then I’m assuming it’s something I did. Because you usually don’t cry without a reason.” He hooked a chair with one of his feet and dragged it over next to her so he could keep an arm around her when he sat down.

“I. . .I just really miss Danny right now.” She turned her head enough to see his jaw clenching and she reached out a hand to pat at his shoulder. “And I feel like I never talk about him because I’m always afraid it’s going to make you feel bad. But remember how we talked about my Dad the other night? You telling me about Ben getting you and Miles to learn to sew. . .just stuff like that. . .so it doesn’t feel like the black swamp that we’re afraid of getting sucked into if we mentioned their names. They’re dead because the Monroe Militia came for them. And that really sucks. And I would give anything. . .even my time with you. Even my time with Miles, to have them back.” Those both hurt to say but it was true. “But I can’t. Just like I can’t go back and change the people I’ve killed and how it must make their families feel.” He’d tucked his chin over her head so she couldn’t see his face but she could feel how he trembled and she turned her head to kiss his collarbone. “So maybe we just say from here on out we just start talking about them and you don’t need to apologize every time I say their names. And you can talk about Emma without me saying I’m sorry I almost shot her or that I tried so hard to get Miles to kill you. . .I’m pretty much as much responsible for Danny’s death as you are. And sure, maybe that’s as likely as the power coming back on and Miles going a full day without looking at all of us like we’re giving him ulcers.” She felt him start laughing into her hair. “But maybe it’s worth trying.”

He drew away from her and his eyes were wet but he was smiling and he bent to kiss her. “Okay. I really wish I could have gotten to have known him better. He reminded me a lot of Ben, the times I met him in Philadelphia. But. . .did you know he escaped from Neville. Twice.”

“Really? He never told me that.”

“Yeah. The first time, he actually got away for nearly a full day but he had an asthma attack. The second was during a tornado and all he had to do was run but he saved Tom Neville’s life.”

She heard her own weak laugh like it came from someone else, feeling her breath catch and she tried not to cry again. If he’d saved Tom, maybe he would have understood her allying with Bass. “Really? Why?”

Bass shrugged. “Not sure. Tom didn’t really say why in the reports. His were always like that. Incredibly long description of facts – I don’t think he could have left out any details – but he never listed motive. His or anyone else’s. One of my men was upset about a friend that died in Sylvania and he blamed Danny. Took a sock to him in the middle of the night with a piece of soap in it.” She remembered the bruises when she’d seen him in Philadelphia. “The next day, Danny faked an asthma attack to get the Soldier close enough to him to get his chains around the guy’s neck and strangled him half to death.” Tom was coming back from a scouting expedition and was too far away to stop it but he wrote that Danny told the guy if he ever touched him again, he’d kill him. Waited till he was purple. And then just let him go.”

“Sounds like something I’d do.”

Bass shook his head. “No. You’d have broken his neck and used his knife to pick the lock on your chains. But that does sound exactly like something I’d expect Ben to do.”

He was right, she realized. She’d imagined, the entire time, what they’d been doing to torture her brother. She’d thought those few brief moments on the train had been the closest he’d come to freedom since he’d been taken away. She’d never dreamed that he could have gotten away twice without her help and giving up the second one for the chance to save another man’s life – even a man he’d considered his enemy. Just as he’d given up his own life for her, his mother and a group of people he’d barely known. She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve – her shirt needed washed anyway, she reasoned. She moved her head to his shoulder and relaxed against him.

“I wish. . .I was so focused on using him against your mother, I didn’t really get to know him. I should have. He seemed very calm, about everything.”

“That would be Danny.” Aaron had told her how Danny had been the first – though not the last – to challenge Neville and his men. They’d had so little time together after Philadelphia -- before he had died – but she wondered if his determination to save everyone else may have been because he blamed himself for Ben’s death.

He wove their fingers together, caressing her palm. “I’m sorry. I should have. . .I know how much Miles pushed me to talk about my family, after they died. And it helped a lot. I should have remembered that.”

She leaned over to kiss him, missing his cheek and getting somewhere along his jaw. His stubble was softer than it looked and she thought back to that tent in New Vegas. His brutality had been unmistakable so she’d never questioned he was the same man. But some days she wondered if she would have if she’d just wandered through, not knowing he was there. 

“Are you ready to go to bed yet,” she murmured and he stood, grabbing her around the waist and swinging her around, away from the table. She squawked and was surprised when he lowered her to her feet.

“There. I know you’re always afraid I’m going to drop you on the stairs.”

“Not. . .really. There is no one I would rather have at my back in a fight. No one I trust more than you. But yeah. I do hate being carried on stairs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have done very little other than gloat since I watched this. If you haven't watched it, it's a video about what's coming up on Revolution: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7LhMh5ZW-Y&feature=youtu.be
> 
> While the whole thing is good, check out starting at 4:11. And really pay attention at 4:22
> 
> I am a very happy fanfic writer. And if you're not sure why, go read the end of Chapter 16.


	34. Chapter 34

Bass was gone when Charlie woke up and she found him in the kitchen, frying eggs and browning toast. He had plates on a tray along with a pot of tea and she smiled at him. “Was I getting breakfast in bed?”

He smiled as he kissed her on the cheek but he shook his head. “Sorry. No.” He flipped one of the eggs. “Can you grab that crock of jam out of the pantry?”

She walked over to the pantry cupboard. “Strawberry or blackberry.”

“I think Carissa likes strawberry more.”

She tilted her head in question and he sighed. “I’m really not expecting to see them for most of the day and I figured I’d be nice and send them up meals. I know she and Jeremy have always considered themselves temporary but I know it’s going to be hard on them ending this. What would you like someone to do for us, if it was our last day together?”

“Well,” she said dryly. “We did that. You brushed me off and made sure we were never alone.”

He had the grace to look guilty but he leaned over and kissed her again. “Because I thought once you got over your shock, you’d be glad about it. And I didn’t think I could deal with that.”

“I thought you were glad to be leaving. What did Miles say to you?”

“Well, he hit me in a face a few times.”

“I know. You both had the bruises to match. But what did you say to each other.”

She was surprised that he was looking everywhere else but her. “We’re guys,” he joked. “Why use words when we can use fists?”

“There is that. But are you saying you two never once talked.”

He pulled the pan from the stove and moved both the eggs onto the plates before dropping the toast on it. “Could you do me a favor? If you really want to know, ask Miles. I think he’d do a better job . . . just ask him. You can even tell I told you to.”

“Okay.” He poured water from the kettle into the teapot and grabbed the tray. “You want me to make you eggs while the pan is still hot?”

He flashed a smile but he still looked nervous. “That would be great, thanks.”

They ate breakfast when he came down, jacket on and swords strapped to his belt. He gulped his down quickly, kissed her cheek, murmuring, “Got an errand to run. See you in a while.”

She washed the dishes absently, feeling her face furrow. She definitely needed to talk to Miles.

 

She finally found Miles, Gene and Connor out by the woodpile, Gene shaking his head. “I really don’t see how we could do it.”

“Not without taking out the shed too, that’s for sure,” Connor agreed and she watched Miles grimace.

“Which leaves the possibility of raining flaming logs on the invaders . . . but just as likely to rain them onto the house. Yeah, got it.” Miles grimaced again. “Trajectory will be a bitch no matter what angle they come from. This whole place is just so damned indefensible. We need tunnels.”

He looked hopeful for a moment but Gene shook his head. “Fresh out.”

“Plotting for an invasion?” Charlie asked and Miles sighed. 

“Honestly? I’m not so sure we’re not going to get one. If Texas orders them to pull out, they may try to take Rachel with them. It would be nice to have a backup plan. That doesn’t burn the house down.”

“Maybe we all move elsewhere. Didn’t the Andovers have some place outside town they used? And didn’t that have utility tunnels?”

Connor looked thoughtful but Miles shook his head. “Yep. But the Patriots are using it. I checked it already. Okay, guys, take a break. But keep thinking about it. Did you need me?”

Charlie nodded. “Take a walk with me.”

He sighed. “Great.” His shoulders slumped.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” she teased but he shook his head.

“Please. Charlie, I would follow you to the end of the earth. You know that right?” She nodded and he reached out to pat her shoulder. “Good. But the thing is, we don’t usually talk when everything is going okay.” 

He had a point and she grimaced. “We may have to change that.”

“I agree with you. But today’s not going to be that day, is it? So, what’s on your mind?”

“Bass and I were talking about Carissa and Jeremy and how we both felt the day he tried to leave to infiltrate the Patriots. I asked what you said to change his mind and he said he’d feel more comfortable if I asked you about it.”

She had time to savor the full range of Miles expression as it crossed from suspicion to horror to resignation. “How the heck am I suppose to remember what I said. . .what was it?” He paused and made a few tick motions with his fingers, “What I said nearly two months ago? Huh, seems like longer.”

She didn’t believe him, Charlie realized, about not remembering what he’d said. But she did agree, it felt like so much more time had gone by than that. ”Miles, can we just drop the bullshit and you tell me what you said? Because otherwise he’s going to have to tell me and –“

His flash of a grin turned into panic. “No,” he snapped. “Fne, I’ll do it. Don’t ask him.”

“Okay.” She leaned against the stack of wood. “What’s so bad that you don’t want to tell me but you really don’t want me to ask him?” He sighed and moved over to put his back against the logs, arm brushing hers.

“It’s not bad. In fact, it’s probably. . .I’m just worried about you two since you both seem to have such a bug about it and –“

“Did he say he loved me?”

Miles snorted. “Wow, considering all the issues you two have I’m a little surprised you guessed that one so quickly. Must be a bigger deal than I thought.”

She waved a hand. “I’m just not ready to say it. Did he?”

Her uncle shook his head. “No. I told him he did. That was the reason he was leaving.”

She felt her eyebrows raise. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. So I punched him in the face.” She gestured with her hands and he sighed. “He just kept walking.”

“So what did you do next?” Obviously there had been something since they’d both been back in time for lunch that day.

“That was when I told him he was a bastard for leaving because you loved him.”

She expected the choking panic and denials rushing out but to her surprise all she did was shrug. “And?”

Judging from Miles expression, he was expecting a different reaction as well and this time it was his eyebrows that rose sharply. “That was when he punched me in the face. It kind of went downhill from there. I do recall something about him saying you weren’t so stupid but we were both going at it so I really didn’t pay too much attention. To be fair, I don’t think he was putting up much of a fight and we ended up sitting in a ditch while I begged him not to go and he told me it would serve me right if he was the one who left this time. I think we both ended up crying. It was very embarrassing.” He grimaced. “But I don’t think I was wrong. Not for either of you.” She shook her head, just the tiniest jerk of her muscles and this time she did feel the familiar pinpricks of fear on her nerves. His hand reached over to grip her fingers. “Don’t worry. I’m not expecting you to say it and I’m pretty sure he’s not ready yet either. Especially now that he has lots of people to lose now. You, Connor, Jeremy, me. . .just to name a few members of our traveling road show.”

Bass, Charlie realized, would be upset if anything happened to Rachel, Gene, Aaron or Cynthia but nothing like if it were any of the people Miles had listed off. But the fact he was adding layers of friends beyond just people he needed was a good sign in itself. She guessed for General Monroe people had fallen into the categories of dearest friends, bitterest enemies and everyone else.

“I don’t know why I can’t say it?” He patted her awkwardly.

“Probably because you know it would be the wrong thing right now.”

She shrugged and straightened, “Fair enough. Tell you what, if he asks, tell him the truth about what I said.” He winced. “I can’t say it, but I’m okay having you say it to him. But only if he asks.”

“What are we, back in third grade?” Miles grumbled but she saw the smiles at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think he will. Like I said, you’re not the only one with issues.”

“Well, he’s at least starting to do better if he’d suggest I talk to you. He could have lied or blown me off.”

Miles looked thoughtful. “Good point. Never thought of that? So, think your insights can extend to getting me something that can blow up the woodpile to keep the Patriots from using it for cover without setting the house on fire at the same time?”

She stared at it for a few minutes before pursing her lips. “Got any tallow and lye?”

“What?”

“Fat.”

He turned to glare at her. “Thanks, I know what tallow is.”

“Then you should have said ‘why’ not ‘what,’” she teased then tilted her head back at the woodpile. “Soap. Make a batch of soap. But just happen to leave it there. Seems innocent enough if anyone asks. The nitroglycerin that will form won’t be particularly flammable. Just a hell of a boom if we have something aimed at the bucket – a brick and some sort of rigged sling shot from one of the windows or something. The pressure should set it off like a concussion grenade and it should blow the woodpile without setting it on fire. In theory.”

He turned to stare at her, a soundless whistle of admiration pursing his lips. “You know, that might work. Good job.”

She couldn’t help her wet eyes or the sniff and he tilted his head in question. “Nora told me about it. She liked nitro. Said it was super versatile and you could almost always blame it on just making soap. She said the only reason she never used it was it was just so tricky to store and us being on the move like we were. . . .”

His arms went around her and he pulled her against his chest. Neither of them actually cried but she felt his grief sharing her own. She had no doubt he loved her mother or that he had been confused about having to pick between the two of them . . . but Nora had clearly meant a great deal to him and he had chosen to try to save her life rather than help Rachel in the Tower.

“You miss her, don’t you?” he asked and she snorted.

“She was like having an older sister. Her death hurt almost as much as Danny’s. She’d given up so much to help us try to get him back and she was there for me after he died. Mom was dealing with her own grief and you were dealing with whatever you were going through, thinking you were going to have to kill Monroe.” She’d not realized how close to the age of madness he’d been skirting himself, those months they had fought for Georgia. She had known something was wrong but hadn’t really taken the time to find out what. Looking back, she understood why he hadn’t told her either. She would not have been sympathetic. She squeezed his hand to take the sting from her words. “More than any of us, Nora understood what she was fighting for . . . what she was trying to do. Bringing back the United States. That’s another reason what the Patriots are doing pisses me off so badly. It’s perverting the country she was trying to save for her children.”

He turned to look for her, face creased into a frown. “What children. Nora never wanted kids.”

“She never told you?”

“Told me what?” He only sounded just a little curious and Charlie suddenly began to wonder if Nora had never told Miles why she’d joined the Resistance. She knew the day in the restaurant with the rebels that he hadn’t known but she’d assumed that somewhere in the in-between months they’d eventually talked about it.

“Nora was dating a guy named Frank when she got pregnant. A couple of Militia guys roughed her up one night when she tried to defend her boyfriend and she lost the baby. She told me that if she ever had another child she wanted him or her to be born in the United States.”

Miles had gone utterly white and she reached out to grab his hand that had dropped from her own. “Miles? Miles, what’s wrong?”

“Did she say when this was?”

“No. Why?”

“When I knew I was going to try to kill Bass. . .I broke up with her first. Never really gave her a reason. Not something I could tell her, actually. Did it about a week after that bombing. A few weeks before I tried to kill him. Spun some story for Bass about how I thought she was cheating on me. Just to make sure he knew she couldn’t be involved. I heard later the next guy she was with was named Frank. She didn’t tell you. . . .” He trailed off and she shook her head.

“No. She didn’t.”

He pulled his hand away to wipe at his eyes. “Damn it. It’s been nearly a year since she died. I should be over feeling like this. Let alone wondering now if she may have been pregnant when I left the Republic. She didn’t say anything to you about when she lost the baby?”

“If she did I don’t remember. Just that she was five months along.” The conversation had been nearly two years ago and she’d been pretty sure Nora had been using it to distract her from the fact they all had been pretty sure they were going to die. She had been in much worse situations later on but that had been her first fight where she had realized she might not survive long enough to rescue Danny.

He stepped away from her, face going hard. She’d seen the look after Emma died. “Well, let’s add that to my list of things I’ll never known and another person whose life I totally ruined when I tried to play executioner that night. Even if it took me more than five years to know how badly I’d fucked things up.”

She stepped in front of him and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to stop but she planted a hand in the middle of his chest. “Don’t you dare,” she said softly. “You gave me some great advice the other night and I think you need to take it yourself. If doesn’t matter who got her pregnant or what you did in the name of trying to help things. It happened. It went wrong. We all went wrong, one way or another. Move on.”

He shrugged. “Just sometimes feels like there is so much to move on from.”

“Tell that to Bass. Or my mother.” He closed his eyes but his expression had gone back to just his normal cynical scowl.

“Okay, fine.” She stepped alongside him so their arms were brushing. He didn’t respond but he also didn’t move away. They stood together for nearly ten minutes, not speaking, when Connor came over to them. He looked a little hesitant but Miles waved him over. “Got something?”

“Sort of. One of the problems is this place is so open. Anyone can come at it from any direction. What about digging some trenches that we line with spiked sticks. You know the type; covered with a thin layer of sticks that collapses when anyone steps on it.”

“Yeah, I know it. Works great in movies. But every trench is going to have a corresponding mound of dirt. How do we explain that?”

“Berms. Which this house could use anyway.”

Miles nodded in agreement. “Won’t argue there. But think that might tip off the Patriots?”

“So go to Truman and ask permission to do it. Say you’ve heard Carissa and Jeremy talking about Texas having kittens and you’re worried you may be left to the Andovers or whoever comes next.”

“That might work,” Charlie commented and Miles nodded.

“It’s not a bad idea. . .except – and here’s where I’m guessing you watched a lot of movies before the Blackout and got the idea from there?”

“Yeah. So?” Connor looked confused more than annoyed.

“Because earthworks like that are great in theory. They really are. However, in practice. . .they are not so easy. In order to be effective, they have to be about eight feet deep and about as wide. Which means the berms would be just as high. And it’s a dead giveaway. Also, those covers on the pits . . . well, they never look as good as they did in the movies. They’re super obvious and worse, sometimes they just collapse. Or the walls collapse in, rendering the spikes useless. Can you tell we tried these?”

“Would a giveaway be a bad thing?” Charlie asked.

“It says we have something to hide or protect. Draws a lot of attention. Besides, a few flaming arrows to the roof later and we’re trapped behind out own berms with a burning house next to us. They pick us all up after we’ve passed out from smoke inhalation.” He reached out and patted Connor’s arm. “You’re thinking along the right track. . .just maybe a little bigger scale than what we’re needing right now. After all, we have a resistance, not an open war.” He glanced around the lawn and sighed. “Some days I miss open war.” Charlie was about to nod when Rachel walked out the kitchen door and over towards them. “And other days I don’t,” he added, walking over to her.

Rachel smiled at him absently but Charlie could see the moment her mother realized something was wrong but she looked at Miles, then turned to Charlie. “Have you seen Bass? He left some tomato sauce cooking and the fire was about to go out but I wasn’t sure what he wanted done with it. Did he want it to cool?” 

Rachel’s eyes were darting back and forth between them and Charlie mouthed ‘later’ at her. She’d talk to Miles, she decided, and find out what he was prepared to tell Rachel. “I don’t know what he’d doing with it. He said he had an errand and he’d be back later but he didn’t say what.” She wasn’t totally sure he wasn’t using it as an excuse to be away from her for a while after she talked to Miles.

“I guess I’ll just let it cool then. Won’t hurt it any. Seems a little runny to me, but since I’m not sure what he’s doing with it. . . Miles, you look terrible.”

“Head cold,” he said briskly. “Hey, Connor, talk to me about those berms.”

Since they’d already finished agreeing Connor’s berms were a bad idea in their current incarnation, it was clearly an attempt to change and subject. It took Connor a moment longer to realize it than Charlie but he gestured at the house grandly. “So, I watched a lot of movies before the blackout and they had these ideas about pits with stakes in them. Granted, we may be trapping ourselves in an area with a burning house, but –“

“Come on. Show me where you’re talking about.” Miles was clearly ignoring the fact that Connor was practically parroting his own words back to him as he grabbed the younger man’s arm and walked off with him. Charlie turned to see Rachel watch him with a bemused smile.

“I don’t know what I find more amusing. The fact he’s trying to hide something or the fact he thinks I actually believe it.” Charlie shrugged and Rachel sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’d rather not,” Charlie admitted. “It’s his thing.”

“Fair enough. So you ready to talk about Bass and I?”

She wasn’t sure if Rachel really meant it or thought Charlie would rather talk about what was bothering Miles. “Yeah, sure.” They needed to get it over with anyway and Charlie realized she no longer cared. “Though maybe I should start off by admitting it was probably sometime in the last decade and he barely even remembered I existed.”

“It was about six months after Miles left. I was being held in Boston and Bass came to visit. I hadn’t seen him in nearly three years. You’ve seen him when he’s in his depressed, angry moods, haven’t you? He’s oddly charming and clingy.”

She’d seen something like it a few times and she abruptly thought of Jeremy and his catalog of Bass and Miles’ moods. Bass had been that way the day they’d first gutted fish, she recalled. He’d been angry but he’d clutched at her like a drowning man to a branch. “Yeah, I know the one.”

“I. . . I was just thinking that if Miles wasn’t coming back – and I didn’t know that he thought I was dead – that maybe I could use Bass to get him to let me go. I kissed him and he kissed me back. That went on for a few minutes then he suddenly smiled at me and told me that he knew I thought of him as nothing more than a means to an end and if I wanted to tell him how to turn the power back on, maybe he’d consider following through but otherwise he had people for this sort of thing. . . that was what he called it, ‘this sort of thing.’ I slapped him and he laughed at me and walked out and I didn’t see him again for six months and he came back to ask me about the power again. Neither one of us ever mentioned it again.” Charlie wasn’t sure what reaction was appropriate so she just stared at Rachel, trying decide if she should shrug. Apparently not reacting wasn’t the right choice because Rachel started to look scared. “Say something, please.”

“What’s to say?” She managed a small smile. “You’re my mother. He’s. . .he’s Bass. I can’t even begin to define him.” She saw Rachel’s mouth start to open. “Please don’t ask me if I love him.” Just by the half smile and the way Rachel looked away she knew she had guessed right what her mother was about to ask. “Everyone keeps asking me that and I’m not ready to admit it yet.” Everyone but Bass, she realized. The one person that she needed to tell first and if he asked, she might actually be able to say the words. She’d thought she’d been pushing him to not say it but the realization it was the other way around was oddly annoying. She still wasn’t ready but it hurt a little to realize he was less so.

But she was a Matheson, she decided. And Matheson’s were practically legendary in their ability to not talk about their feelings. She almost snorted in wry amusement. Matheson’s were also nearly legendary about messing up relationships for exactly that reason. Maggie and Ben had seemed to work surprisingly well and she wondered for a moment if it was because Ben had told her nearly everything about his past or practically nothing at all.

Rachel reached out and gripped her hand and Charlie found herself smiling for real. “No wonder you were upset that night when we had sex for the first time.”

“You have no idea. Though to be honest, I wanted to be angry at him but he looked absolutely miserable and you just had the most determined glare. I was a little scared to even talk to you. I kept meaning to talk to you about it but you just . . . it was driving me crazy that he was making you happy but I’d never seen you so content.”

“He’s good.”

Rachel shook her head. “That was the worst of it. It wasn’t good sex content. I think I could have accepted that easier. It was like watching you start to open up to everyone. Like being with him made you more comfortable with yourself.”

That had been exactly what it had felt like, Charlie realized. It had been the feeling that he had absolutely understood her family, her past and, most of all, that he’d understood her. She’d always felt the desire to see the world; to try to fix things. She was pretty sure that was what had driven Miles to found the Republic in the first place, even if it hadn’t worked out quite the way he’d planned. “I never thought it would be like that,” she said, realizing that Rachel was looking worried again. “I’d had sex before obviously. Jason. And a few other guys later on; just hook-ups.” Jason hadn’t been her first either, but no point in laying out her entire sexual history. “Even with Jason . . . I think we could have had something if things had gone different. But it felt like we were trying too hard. Not that I realized it then. It wasn’t until Bass that I realized what I’d been missing. That feeling like sex isn’t just about getting off. It’s about connecting with another person.”

“Yeah.” Rachel looked scared but she nodded. “I . . . know what you mean. Like there’s only half of you left when they’re gone.”

She’d never thought of it that way and Charlie felt herself frown but she tried to imagine what it would be like if Bass left her and she caught herself starting to choke up. “Fuck,” she whispered and Rachel sighed. 

“Yeah, I thought so.” She reached over and patted Charlie’s arm. “Don’t obsess over it though. It’ll drive you crazy. Trust me, I know all about that.” She jerked her head where Bass was walking down the driveway carrying a small wrapped bundle. “Ask him about the tomato sauce, will you? I’m going to go see if I can get Miles to tell me about what’s bugging him.”

She walked away in the same direction Miles and Connor had disappeared. Charlie caught up with Bass at the kitchen doo and he turned to smile cautiously at her. “You talk to Miles?” he asked and she nodded. 

“I did. I finally talked to my Mom too.” His eyebrows raised as he led her into the kitchen.

“Not the two conversations I’d expect you to have in the space of the same hour. Want to talk about either of them?” The expression on his face said he didn’t exactly want to but he was trying to make sure she was okay.

“Not particularly.” It wasn’t just letting him off the hook. “As far as I’m concerned, what happened between you and Rachel is in the past and what Miles talked about . . .maybe we can revisit that topic sometime. But I’m not sure I’m ready for it yet. And maybe I’m crazy but I’ve been getting the feeling you’re not either. Am I wrong. I thought for a while it was just me.”

There was no mistaking the relief on his face and he dropped the package on the table. It thumped like it was in some sort of container but he turned and wrapped his arms around her. “No, you’re not wrong. I . . . it was bugging me a while ago and I wanted to talk about it. But ever since Mexico, I’ve realized how much more I have to lose. And I don’t just mean Connor. Up until then, I really thought I’d push you away eventually. I know we’d talked about staying together and having kids but I really . . . I thought you’d change your mind and leave first. When Miles said you guys couldn’t stop me and you told him I wasn’t going anywhere because you promised. And then you whacked me in the head and you and Miles were yelling at each other and you were crying.” He bent over to touch his lips to the same spot on her forehead she’d hit on his. “And I knew that no matter what I had to worry about, you leaving wasn’t one of them. So now I just have to worry about something happening to you. And that’s scarier.”

She stepped into his arms and tucked the side of her face against his shoulder. His arms went around her back and he held her tightly. She felt his lips on her hair but other than that he just kept her pressed against him for a long time. He finally stepped away with an apologetic smile as he grabbed a couple more small logs and added them to the stove, stirring the tomatoes he was stewing. “We weren’t sure what you were doing with that,” Charlie finally said.

“Just an idea. Not sure it will work but I was hoping to get your Mom’s help with the second part of it.”

“She’s off trying to talk to Miles. Not sure how that’s going.” He smiled absently.

“Oh, what’s bugging him now?” When she didn’t answer he turned from the pot on the stove to her. “Uh oh, something really is wrong, isn’t it?”

“You should probably talk to him about it. It’s his thing,” Charlie said. She wasn’t sure Miles would mind her talking to Bass but she realized she wasn’t sure. He stared at her for few minutes, saying nothing and she finally sighed. “He and I were talking about Nora and I told him about a story she’d told me once about why she joined the Resistance.” He inhaled sharply and then nodded.

“He’s wondering about the baby, isn’t he?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Charlie, he had a very public fight with her in the middle of Independence Hall about a week before he tried to kill me. She left him – went to Ohio to do some job blowing up a dam there. I was never quite sure if she had known about it or not. But I had surveillance on her for nearly a year, hoping it would lead me to him. I need to talk to Miles.”

She jerked her head at the door and he started towards it. He was partly outside when he turned to look at her. “You coming?” When she hesitated he sighed. “I’m only going to tell this story once and you deserve to hear it too.”

 

They found Miles and Rachel seated by the woodpile, their backs to it and Miles looked up at them, grimacing. “She tell you about it?” he asked, sounding more tired than anything. One of his hands was linked with Rachel’s. “You know, I think I understand you a little more now. Even though it’s been what, seven years? And there’s no way I’ll ever know. . .it’s still like someone punched me in the stomach.”

“Five and a half years.”

Charlie frowned, turning to stare at Bass. “What do you mean?” Miles asked.

“Since she lost the baby. Five and half years.”

Miles stood slowly, dropping Rachel’s hand. “How do you know that.”

“I was never sure she hadn’t known what you were going to do. That the fight between the two of you was staged. It always seemed kind of flimsy. Thinking she was sleeping with someone else.”

“I knew she wasn’t. And yeah, it was staged. But she didn’t know that. I didn’t know if I was going to survive trying to kill you. Didn’t think she needed to get dragged into it.”

“I was hoping she’d lead me to you. So I had her watched, for about a year. She must have figured it out because she eventually dropped out of sight but in all that time we’d seen no sign of you so I didn’t pursue it. But she certainly wasn’t pregnant during that time. When I had her,” he grimaced, as if in apology, “I asked her why the rebels? And she told me about the baby. Told me it was about a year and a half after you left. She said it wasn’t yours. And I knew it hadn’t been from before you two had fought but I wasn’t sure if you’d seen each other in that time.”

Miles shook his head, exhaling slowly. “No. We didn’t.”

“I really hate bringing up what . . . interrogating her like that. I wish I could undo that entire period of my life. But since it did happen, I thought maybe you’d want to know.”

Miles sighed, scrubbing his palms along his face. “Yeah. I . . . I hate that you did it . . . but I do appreciate you letting me know.” His laugh was completely joyless. “Wow, nothing like thinking you’ never know the answer to something and getting it answered less than an hour later.” He stepped in and buried his face in Bass’ chest, his shoulder shaking. Charlie walked over to the woodpile and held out her hand. Rachel grabbed it pulled herself up but kept it, squeezing it.

“Come on,” Rachel said quietly. “Let’s give them a minute.”

Charlie nodded and started to turn away but Bass looked over at them his arms still wrapped around Miles. “Hey, Rach, can I get some help in the kitchen in a few?” Bass asked and Charlie felt her mother stiffen. She’d heard Miles call her mother the shortened version of her name a few times but she’d never her Bass use it before.

“Sure. We’ll be inside.” She wasn’t sure if he heard the strain in Rachel’s voice because he turned back to Miles and Charlie walked away, Rachel’s fingers still tightened painfully around her own. She seemed unaware of it until they got to the step and her mother looked over at her. “Sorry.” She rubbed at her hand as they walked inside and Charlie stirred the tomatoes that were coming back to a low boil. “Has he said what he’s making?”

“No. He just said he needed your help with it.” She walked over to the package on the table and unwrapped the brown paper, smoothing it out. There was a small block of white cheese and a plastic tub, a little larger than the margarine container that held the soap at the pump and she cracked open the lid. It held some kind of white paste that also smelled a little like cheese and she dabbed at it with her finger and tasted it. It was grainy and bland but not unpleasant and Charlie saw Rachel starting over her shoulder. “Do you know what this is?”

Rachel sniffed at it and tried a sample of her own before she started to smile. “I’m pretty sure it’s ricotta. And I think I know what he’s making.”

 

They ate the venison stew Bass had made the day before for lunch. Jeremy and Carissa actually came down out of their room for the meal but everyone was mostly quiet. The two of them left for a walk as soon as they’d finished eating and Gene headed off to go see Marion, saying she had asked him to go to check on the man who was staying upstairs – Charlie realized that must have been the same Bob as the Bob and Susan that Julie had mentioned at the quilting party. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was true or if it was just an excuse but Rachel just smiled and rolled her eyes as he left – bag in hand. Miles also left – not saying where or why but that was less surprising and Charlie decided to give him a little space. He’d been so focused on taking care of them for so long she wondered if he’d probably put off mourning for Nora properly and even if the baby hadn’t been his, the reminder of her loss was probably a chance to grieve.

Connor helped clear the table and he and Charlie started the dishes as Rachel and Bass mixed up a batch of dough and rolled part into a thin sheet on the counter. The first attempt stuck to the tiles, even with the flour they’d sprinkled over it and they scraped it back up again, kneading it back into a ball.

“I think we’re going to have to do this on the table,” Rachel said and Bass grabbed the dishcloth to wipe the wood then buffed it with a dry cloth.

“Do you think egg might stabilize it?”

Rachel shrugged. “It might. But I’m not too sure about doing egg noodles since we’re not going to have a chance to dry them properly. I think they’d be too doughy with the sauce. Maybe a slightly thicker strip.”

“What are you making?” Connor asked and Rachel shrugged.

“Trying to make is more like it. Lasagna noodles.”

She remembered lasagna, Charlie realized, or at least being excited about it. She didn’t really remember what it had tasted like. Rachel touched the wood where Bass had wiped at it and nodded. This time she spread a much thicker layer of flour and Bass raised his eyebrows. “Wow, Rachel, think you might need more there?”

She shrugged. “You want it to work, don’t you?” 

“Can’t you just put it back when you’re done?” Connor asked but Bass shook his head.

“Not once we’ve rolled the dough onto it. It’ll get moisture in it from that or maybe a little from the table and the whole batch of flour might start to mold.”

Connor looked suitably impressed and turned back to the bowls he was washing. Rachel wrinkled her nose as she looked down at the table. “But maybe I’ll make a cake or something with all that when we’re done with it.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea. Except we’re nearly out of sugar. I tried to buy some more but Emily was out.”

“Emily had ricotta?” Rachel asked but Bass shook his head.

“No. I actually tried to get sugar yesterday afternoon but Lila was there. She had made mozzarella that afternoon and wanted to know if Emily wanted any. That was what made me start thinking about making lasagna. I asked her if she ever made ricotta and she said she could make a batch after morning milking. I went over there to get it and the mozzarella from her today.”

“I can do pie,” Rachel said. “Unless we’re out of butter too.”

“Nope. Plenty of butter. “

Rachel finished rolling the sheet of dough out again and she finally sighed. “I think that’s going to have to be thin enough. Otherwise, I’m worried about it sticking again.”

Bass nodded and he grabbed the knife, slicing the sheet of dough into wide ribbons that Rachel dusted with flour. They laid them on a baking sheet and slid them into the oven and repeated the process with a second ball of dough. As he put the second tray in and stirred the tomato sauce, Rachel scraped the flour into a bowl and started mixing it with butter and eggs. She turned to Connor and Charlie. “If you two are done, can I get you to peel some apples for me?”

“Almost,” Connor said. “Hey, Charlie, if you finish here I can go grab the apples.” She nodded and he walked out while she swished sudsy water over the last two bowls and then rinsed them, setting them into the dishpan. Connor came back with about a dozen apples. “Is this enough?” he asked and Rachel nodded.

“Should be. Since we’re low on sugar I think I’ll mix them with some of the strawberry jam.” Bass nodded his approval and he grabbed a cheese grater, running the block of mozzarella through it with fast, sure strokes. “Damn, I remember when we used to buy this stuff already shredded.”

“I usually just bought the lasagna already made,” Rachel admitted.

“And you usually bought the spaghetti sauce in a jar too.” Bass teased and Rachel shrugged.

“You remember my cooking, don’t you?”

He laughed. “Which is why I’m surprised your bread turns out so well.”

Rachel shrugged. “Dad was trying to do everything taking care of me and one day he was starting to make bread and someone came to get him because somebody had a broken leg. I decided I’d surprise him and make it but it didn’t rise right and I burned it and the whole thing was a mess. Aaron had just moved in with Cynthia and he came to check on me – Dad had ran into him in town. He and Cynthia found me sobbing in the middle of the floor and Cynthia just threw out the lump I’d made and made a fresh loaf while Aaron got me calmed down. That night Dad talked about how good the bread was and how he was so happy I was doing better and I didn’t have the heart to tell him what a disaster I’d made of the first batch so I went to Cynthia the next day and asked her to show me how she made it. I went every day for a week – poor woman had bread all over her house – but in the end, I could make bread.”

“Maybe I should get some lessons from her,” Bass said. “That was one thing my mother never did bother teaching me.”

“I’m just surprised you cook at all,” Connor said. “I mean, other than being able to just fry meat. Even I can sort of do that if I need to.”

“I remember you cooking one time when I came over for dinner,” Rachel sighed. “I really didn’t believe Ben when he told me you’d really made it. I thought he was messing with me.”

Bass shrugged. “He wasn’t bad himself either. Miles. . .well, my mother and Irene both tried to teach him and he was still terrible at it. I think he just never tried. I always thought it was funny. I cooked to try to get laid and there would be Miles, all snappy and rude and I swear he probably got lucky twice as often as I did.” He glanced between Rachel and Charlie, blushing slightly. “Um.”

Rachel laughed. “Don’t worry. I know he wasn’t a virgin when I met him and I’m pretty sure Charlie knew you lost yours before she was even born.” Connor tried to muffle a snort but didn’t manage it and Charlie shrugged. “Your problem was you tried too hard sometimes. You were a lot nicer and lot more charming than he was but it sometimes made me wonder what you were compensating for . . . well, and you weren’t a challenge either,” she added as he started to sputter.

“Do you mean times I struck out being the nice guy because there were women who thought I had a small dick?” At Rachel’s smile and shrug he gaped. “You thought so?”

Connor wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was laughing and Charlie had her wrist pressed to her mouth to muffle herself and he turned to glare at both of them. “Charlie, would do me a favor and enlighten your mother.” He tone was icy and Rachel reached over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Bass, it’s okay. You know they say it’s how they use it and I’m sure you’re very talented.”

“Bull shit. I’m a least the same size as Miles.” He looked over at Charlie and she held out her hands.

“Don’t look at me. Not like I’ve seen his?” Which wasn’t strictly true. They’d lived and fought together and there had been a few times where nature had called in the middle of a fighting position where modesty had been impossible. They’d done what they could to not embarrass each other on such occasion and neither of them had stared but she’d certainly never seen him aroused. Bass was looking flustered and she caught a glimpse of Rachel’s grin over his shoulder. “What, you want me to admit I’ve had bigger? Don’t go there if you don’t want the answer.” Which was true because Jeff-the-bartender had been unusually proportioned.

She was just starting to be worried his jaw was going to crack from all the strain when Rachel started to laugh and patted him on the shoulder. “Relax, Bass. I actually did wonder that at first. But I heard a few of your girls talk and figured out I was wrong pretty quickly.” 

There was still a vein throbbing in his forehead but he was also almost-smiling around his glare and he shoved his shoulder against Rachel’s like he was congratulating her. He turned, glancing over at Charlie. “Wait, now I am curious.”

“It was a one night stand in the Plains Nation.” She decided not to mention it was who had tipped her off to his location. “And he could probably be described as a freak of nature.” Not that she had exactly complained. But she’d never even considered staying when she’d found out she might be able to kill Monroe. 

To his credit he only shrugged. “Okay, now that you two are finished, how’s the pie coming?”

Connor held up the apple he was coring. “I have a feeling it will be ready before the lasagna. Three left for me to finish.”

He’d gotten ahead of her, Charlie realized. She was only on her second apple. Rachel was rolling out the crust and Charlie went back to her apple, trying not to smile as Bass stirred his sauce, glancing at them.

“Okay, so I might have overreacted,” he admitted finally. “You just surprised me. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

“Did you want me to tell you that it was because you weren’t a challenge?” Rachel said, smiling. “That part was true too but not all girls like a challenge. I do, but then again, I’m not typical in my taste for men. Just about drove my father nuts. You’d better hope that if you have any daughter they don’t take after me.” Charlie was surprised to see Connor’s jaw set as much as Bass and they both turned to glare at Rachel who started to grin at them both. “Oh, you pair of hypocrites. Bass, if I can accept you sleeping with my daughter, you’d damn well better be nice to whoever your daughters pick.” She grimaced. “Though maybe you’ll be lucky and they’ll not take after me.”

Connor cleared his throat, his knife slicing through his apple with unusual force. “Maybe,” he glanced over at Charlie, “Maybe it would be safer if I just got brothers.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Charlie commented. “But I’m pretty sure that part’s not up to me.” She jerked her head at Bass. “Place your order with him if you think it will do any good. But I’m pretty sure he just has to take what he gets.”

Connor glanced over at Rachel. “You’re the scientist. Anything that can be done to help the odds.”

Rachel shrugged. “There are plenty of myths. But I don’t think any of them are really that effective.”

“Healthy.” Bass said firmly. “That’s what I’ll take. As for the rest. . . .” his hand drifted to his belt where his sword hung when he left the house. “Well, let’s just say I’ll be able to deal with it.”

“Wow, you really are a hypocrite,” Charlie said, though she was trying not to laugh at the same time. 

“Not at all. I’m pretty damn sure any daughters will have me completely wrapped around their fingers. But,” he looked at her, “how do you think you’ll react when you meet the first young man who wants to take our little girl on a date?” He turned to Connor and Rachel. “Or you two?” She felt her smile start to slip and her eyes widened at the way Rachel glared. “Or Miles?” He sat down, snagging an apple slice from in front of her. Connor’s fingers, Charlie noticed, had gone white from gripping the hilt of his knife and she glanced down to see hers had done the exact same. “Thought so.” His grin was smug as he took a bite of apple. “And that is the reason I’m not worried. I have all of you to do it for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had no idea of using the idea about Nora's pregnancy. . .but I was watching "No Quarter" a few days ago and realized I'd always wondered if that baby she lost was Miles' because Nora never gave a timeline (Yeah, I was with your Uncle for a while. Then there was Frank. He was sweet). And the idea of bringing it up just happened. Now, I actually believe that baby really could have been Miles' and I may go back and write something, someday about it (POV of a dying Nora, glad that Miles stayed with her at the end and thinking the pain she'd spared him by never telling him he was almost a father?) However, for the purposes of "Resistance" it could have devolved into chapters of angst and self-loathing on Miles' part and been a distraction and burned up twenty-thirty thousand words. And it was actually tempting. But I'm trying to move them out of Willoughby (for about twenty chapters now. . .though I don't grudge their staying. . .I've liked where the story has gone here) and based on what's coming, I kind of need Miles to be focused. So I spared him that, at least. Though I think having the experience of wondering for an hour or so was good for him.
> 
> I also decided to get the Charlie/Rachel conversation about Bass out of the way. It was anticlimactic on purpose because I get the feeling they've both moved on and know it and know the other knows it as well and just have the token talk so they can now go back to mostly pretending it never happened.
> 
> As for Bass and daughters. . .I thought of having him freaking out about them but then decided that with Charlie, Miles, Connor, and Rachel in the family, he realized he can afford to be laid back about it. The preceding dick-size conversation was a total accident but I couldn't resist when I realized where it was going. I think Bass would be a bit more secure under normal circumstances but he just had Rachel question his manhood in front of Charlie AND his son on a day where he was already somewhat emotionally venerable and thus the over-reaction. Which is also why he got to score on all of them when the question of daughters came up.
> 
> It will be interesting to see what the next episode (36 hours left to wait) brings and how that changes what I already have planned. The epilogue is written. The ending is mostly written. But the journey on how they get there. . .well, let's just say I'm flexible on that.


	35. Chapter 35

Carissa gaped when Bass pulled the pan of lasagna out of the oven and sat it in the middle of the table. “No way,” she said as he started to cut it into it. “No fucking way.”

Gene’s eyebrows rose and he looked impressed as Rachel helped Bass dish the slabs. Monroe had browned minced venison and added it to the sauce when Rachel had finished the pie and then let the sauce simmer for another hour before laying everything together. He and Rachel had discussed things like noodle position and cheese placement like they were planning affairs of state and Connor had leaned over to whisper to Charlie he’d heard less complicated debates in murder trials. But they had both seemed pleased with each other when it was finished, which Charlie took to be a good sign.

“Don’t know how it’s going to taste,” Bass said, handing Carissa her plate. “First try and all that. We’re going to miss you.”

Carissa didn’t actually cry but Charlie thought it may have been close for a moment. She abandoned her seat to walk around the table and hug Bass and Rachel tightly – one arm around each of them. “I’m going to miss you guys too. Though hopefully. . . .” she turned to look at Miles.

“I don’t have a timeline on when we go to D.C. yet,” Miles said. “But a lot of it depends on if the Patriots leave Texas or not. I’m just praying they don’t send you somewhere else because we’re going to need you to help us get in to see the President.”

“I can always write and say I need to go back home,” Carissa said. “Dad would like that. He wasn’t totally thrilled with me going to Texas in the first place but I wanted to see the U.S. so I asked him to leave it alone.”

“So how much authority over orders does your Dad have?” Miles asked.

“Technically, none. But if you are about the only person who’s able to change the ribbon on the typewriter – let alone being the one who can type with the least number of mistakes – when you ask for something, you usually get what you want.”

“So from what I hear,” Gene said, “The President’s name is Davis. But last election, that wasn’t who I voted for.“

She took a bite of her lasagna and sighed. “Wow. This is incredible. The President and the Speaker of the House were on Air Force One at the time of the blackout. The Vice-President was never found. Davis was the Secretary of Defense. Lawfully – according to that Constitution you guys say you want to go back to – Davis was next in line.”

“So did your father work for David before the Blackout, or did Davis inherit him from the President?”

“He worked for Davis. Oh, you mean me talking about him as the President BEFORE the Blackout? Habit. You don’t talk about before without doing that. Not around him. Then it just becomes easier to always talk like that. Less chance of screwing up. Because you don’t want to screw up.”

“So what are the consequences if you do?” Jeremy asked.

“For me?” Carissa sighed. “A really long lecture about the immorality of the United States and the purification of the population and this was a gift of strength for a corrupt Nation.” 

Bass winced, taking a bite of his lasagna but then nodded at Rachel. “Hey, great job on the noodles. This is really good. So, it kind of sounds like – and I really can’t exactly throw stones here – he went a little nuts?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s an accurate assessment. Granted, I wasn’t quite aware how nuts till I started reading some of Truman’s files. I think Truman figures I was having sex with Jeremy on his desk.” Gene’s eyebrows rose. “It was late, everyone was leaving and I asked if I could borrow his office because privacy was in short supply. He laughed and told me I knew where the bleach was so if I cleaned it, I could use it. He sounded a little envious. I know his wife is sleeping in his room but that makes me think she’d probably not having sex with him.”

“I’d like to state for the record,” Jeremy added, gesturing with his fork, “that while I did bleach the desk, we did not copulate on it. I do have some standards.”

“Precious few if I’m your type,” Connor commented, grinning. Jeremy nodded at him.

“Touché. But in terms of class, you are far above Ed Truman’s desk. However, we digress. Truman is also a compulsive hand-washer in the sense he documents damn near everything he does. Which is stupid considering the lock on his bookcase is pathetic. I suck at picking locks and I still had it open in less than five minute. Real secret societies are usually smart enough to NOT mark all their important papers with the seal of their order. Almost makes me want to know if they’re playing us.” He glanced at Carissa.

“They’re not. Like I was saying, Davis is paranoid. He wants reports. He wants updates and he wants everything documented.”

“So who betrayed him or who did he betray?” Bass asked. “That he fears betrayal so bad himself. Yeah, I recognize those signs. Either he got burned bad, or he burned someone else.”

“That,” Carissa admitted, “I may have to ask Dad about when I get back to D.C. “

Miles nodded. “You do that. Damn,” he took another bite of lasagna. “This really is great. Good job.”

“Thanks. Maybe while we figure out where we’re buying that farm, I’ll cook in the restaurant of whatever hotel you open.”

Carissa sighed. “You make it sound so certain.”

Bass lips twitched into a smile. “It’s anything but certain. But if I plan for the future, then maybe I’ll know what to do with it when it gets here. I’ve been fighting someone for so long, I’ll be honest, settling down will be hard.”

“We did that when we were first going to Iraq,” Miles said. “Psyched ourselves into it so when it really happened it wasn’t so bad. A lot of people did. It was how we coped. But it did making coming home hard. So now we do the exact opposite and psych ourselves up for when it is all over. You wouldn’t think it would be very hard but . . . .” He and Bass exchanged looks. “But in the end, it’s your family that gets you through it. Blood or otherwise.”

Carissa didn’t look at Jeremy but she reached blindly for his hand and he took hers and Charlie watched him squeeze it. “So. . .what do you do when you lose that family? If you’re standing there at the end and they’re not there with you.” Charlie wasn’t sure if she was talking about what would happen if they had died or if she meant her real family, who might not be willing to accept her change in political opinion.

“Then you make new family,” Rachel said softly. “And sometimes you find it in the most unusual places.”

Carissa turned to Bass. “And you? What do you do if they’re all gone.”

“I make someone pay. Make it mean something. And then. . . .” He took a deep breath. “My life has completely ended so many time . . . if I lost Miles and Charlie and Connor, yeah, I’d be totally broken. And I’d want to die. And maybe I go have that date in the graveyard that Miles interrupted so many years ago. I don’t know. But maybe on my way to Jasper I meet some guy who needs help and we become friends and then maybe I meet some girl and she’s smart and funny and makes me laugh. And maybe the three of us set up a life somewhere and I have a little boy called Connor Miles Jeremy and a little girl named Charlotte Rachel Nora and I cry about them and this imaginary woman pats me on the shoulder and lets me cry and our friend gets me drunk and gets me telling stories about the stupid things Miles did when we were kids. I used to think my life ended whenever anyone I loved died. I wish it did. But . . . how many times do I have to start over before I accept that I can do it, even when I hate it.” He met Charlie’s eyes and she could see the tears in the corners that hadn’t fallen yet. “And maybe it me that dies and Charlie meets that same two people and it’s her that has a little boy she names Miles Daniel Sebastian. The thing is, we can’t know.” He exhaled. “Any other questions, Captain?”

Carissa shook her head. “Tons of them but any more and I’m going to be crying. Damn, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”

“Thought you were going to get the suicide option, didn’t you?” Gene said and she snorted.

“Yeah, really, I did.”

“Honestly,” Bass said. “That would be my preference if I’m the only one left at the end of the fight. But I’d also want her to go and live if she was the one standing, so I won’t make any decisions one way or another.” He moved his shoulder over to touch it to Charlie’s.

Jeremy shook his head. “Make that 96. Practical optimism is a new one. Damn, you really are getting better, aren’t you?” He leaned over to dish a second helping of lasagna.

“Working on it,” Bass muttered. “Some days are better than others.”

“So,” Connor asked. “What did you come up with for our cover story?”

Jeremy paused with his fork to his mouth. “Um, maybe we save that for after dinner.”

“Please and thank you.” Rachel said. “Some of us worked hard enough on this meal we prefer not to serve it with a side of infidelity garnished with sodomy.”

The comment surprised a laugh out of both Miles and Jeremy and Connor nodded. “Okay, yeah, pie sounds much better. Speaking of the pie, I peeled most of the apples.”

“Hey brat,” Charlie protested. “I was there too,”

“Yes, but I peeled seven and you peeled five. Therefore, by any laws of mathematics, I peeled more.” But he was grinning at her and Charlie felt herself grinning back.

 

Charlie was sorting through her laundry the next afternoon when she heard the sounds of a wagon and the calls of a patrol squad. She checked the window and was surprised to only see a few men, which meant the rest were better concealed or this still wasn’t the dreaded arrest squad.

Carissa was on the wagon box and Jeremy was seated behind her, looking like he was trying to argue but her face was set. Charlie’s lips curved up, wondering if his fake arguments were as eloquent as his real ones and she felt a flash of sorrow for them. She knew Carissa hadn’t planned on leaving until the next morning and wondered what had made her change her mind. She abandoned her laundry and headed down the stairs – though now without checking to make sure she had a sidearm under her jacket.

Carissa was just coming in the door, Jeremy behind her. “Come on, sweetheart. I didn’t mean it. I was drunk. Everyone does stupid things when they drink.”

“No, Jeremy, most people do not get drunk and bang their ex-boyfriends son. And if they do, and I can even understand that, they don’t keep doing it.”

Jeremy’s smile turned into nearly a smirk. “You really have lived a sheltered life, haven’t you?” He sighed. “Look, I know if was a really crappy thing to do. But you told me just the other day not to get attached. That you were just in it for now. And you, of all people, know my feelings for Miles. And to have. . . .” he trailed off, brushing his fingers through his hair. “To have a chance with the closest thing to him I can get?”

“So when he breaks your heart too. . .I just hope it was worth it.” Carissa paused for a moment, shutting her eyes. “I guess I kind of understand. Intellectually. But emotionally. Fuck you, Jeremy Baker. If all I want is self-destructive entertainment, I can do a hell of lot better than you.”

Charlie wasn’t quite sure, the wry smile he gave her was fake. “You have no idea.” He stepped back, letting the two Patriot Soldiers behind him inside and he seated himself at the table.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked as if she had no idea and Carissa glared at her.

“This douche here got drunk that night I had to work late and had a fling with your cousin. That, I might have understood. But apparently they’ve hooked up a few times since.”

“Turns out,” Jeremy said, a combination of his trademark smirk and regret that actually looked surprisingly charming, “Miles isn’t the only one in the family with a weakness for blondes.”

“Ew, TMI,” Charlie replied, and she saw him struggling not to laugh. The two Patriot Soldiers looked confused. They were young enough, Charlie realized, that the reference probably passed over their head as much as it had hers the day Jeremy had first tried to explain it.

“So it’s to the point that either he moves out or I move out. And quite frankly, not sure I’m up to eating d inner across the table from Connor right now, even if it was fair. Frankly, this has been a fun experiment on Texas culture but he’s a part of your family. Miles and Rachel and even you know him a lot longer than you’ve known me.”

It was practically the same thing Miles had said to her once, though he meant about knowing Jeremy longer than her or Nora. And yet, for his place in the family, Carissa had practically nailed it, even if it was an accident.

“I really am sorry,” Jeremy said slowly. “I never meant for it to end this way.” 

The Patriot Captain managed a small smile. “Well, we both knew it was going to end eventually so maybe this just makes it less painful for both of us.” She stepped in to kiss him on the cheek but gave him no chance to reciprocate before she stepped away from him. “Come on, guys. Let’s go get me packed.”

They headed up the stairs and Charlie took a seat next to Jeremy. “You doing okay?” she asked and his smile was nothing more than a quirk of the lips. “She may be right about one thing. Best not to get attached. I didn’t realize it but I think I was a little.” Charlie wasn’t entirely sure but she thought he might really have meant that.

Carissa was back downstairs within about fifteen minutes, the Patriots trailing after her, carrying her bags. Charlie was surprised there were less of them than she had expected. One of the Soldiers had her M4 slung over his shoulder. “I’ll stop back in a few days,” Carissa said, ignoring Jeremy. “Tell everyone goodbye.” She smiled at Charlie but she gestured the Patriots forward and the three of them walked out, Carissa shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Well,” Charlie said, “did you ever tell her about the M4 and the buffer spring?”

“Yeah, a few days ago. In fact, she already plans to clean it tonight then take it to the armory and tell someone she bent it herself on accident.” He glanced around the kitchen absently. “You know, this kind of sucks. If I didn’t know better I’d think I actually. . . .” He trailed off. “You’d have thought I’d have learned better by now.”

Charlie walked over and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll see her again in D.C., probably in a few months.” He shook his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean sure, we’ll see each other. But she and I. . .we’re done. Even if we hook up again there. . .but we’ve already agreed even to try not to do that. We want different things out of life and it’s best to accept it now.”

“Like how different?” She remembered Carissa’s comment about wanting kids. “If it’s a matter of babies, people have step-kids all the time. Hell, look at me.” That surprised a smile out of him.”

“It’s not just the physical passing on of my genetic material. I meant it when I said I didn’t want kids. And having step-kids is pretty much just the same. Actually, they’re even worse because if you aren’t willing to accept them as yours, you have no business being with their parent. Granted,” he gestured at her, “you may be able to get a pass on that since you and Bass pre-dated Connor joining the family.”

Except that she had known he existed and that Miles knew where to find him. Which meant she had no excuse; however, thinking on how and she Connor got along, she wasn’t sure she even needed it. He was part of her family now, just like Jeremy and Aaron.

“I hadn’t really thought about it but I think I see what you mean. “ Maggie had never stopped missing her boys but she had also tried so hard to let Charlie and Danny know that she had loved them as well.

“We agreed – and I think we even both really agree it is the right thing – that it’s easiest to end it now when we have some space and try not to pick it back up again when we get to D.C. since we’ll both have had some time and space by then. I mean, why go through this twice?”

“You might change your mind. She might.”

He shrugged. “That’s possible. But we’re not you and Bass. We were always both in it for the sex and that was fun but I’m not sure we’d even like each other in another year or so.” He grinned as he stood, stretching. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to run over to Lila’s and see if she has any more of that cheese she made for James. Want to come along and listen to me spill out my sad story of my poor behavior and how I’d been so mean to that poor girl but that I kind of can’t help be happy with Miles’ son?”

“No, I think I’m good. I’m guessing Tracy will be around when you tell Lila all about it?”

He nodded, standing and straightening his jacket. “That’s the idea. Though,” he paused and smiled, looking around the kitchen carefully as if he didn’t want someone to overhear. “I don’t think Connor or Miles thought it through nearly enough. Gay men are often chick-magnets. And if by some chance she’s not more determined to prove she can change him, she’s more than likely going to start stalking Miles again.”

She felt bad, but Charlie couldn’t help laughing.

 

It felt odd, Charlie decided at dinner, to have the extra room around the table with one less chair, her hip no longer brushing Bass’ on one side and her elbow Connor’s on the other. Jeremy appeared to have recovered from his moment of introspection and spent most of dinner describing their four fights throughout the day that had gradually escalated until they had a agreed in a rare private moment that her moving out immediately was probably for the best rather than waiting until the next day. 

He made everyone laugh at Truman’s honest surprise and dismay. “He’s an ass,” Jeremy finished. “And the more we learn about what they’re planning – a re-education camp at the very least – the more I think he’s bought the Patriot party line and will go as far as it takes to make mission. But he does care about his Soldiers and it was almost funny watching him get mad at me.”

“Ed Truman, mad?” Gene laughed. “That’s something that would be a surprise to see.”

“Actually, there are a lot of things about him that might surprise you. Like, for instance, he did spend some time today asking Carissa about Marion?”

Gene, Rachel and Miles all looked startled as Connor asked, “Why?”

“Seems its common knowledge around Willoughby that you, Gene, and Marion are back together again and that your daughter knows about it. Now, and I can’t be sure about this, but it seems he’s developed a bit of a fondness for her. Granted, he can’t do anything about it because he’s got that wife of his, and Carissa was only able to tell me a little bit when we were supposed to be in the other room fighting. But she thinks he’s got a bit of a crush.”

“Well he can find some other bartender to crush on,” Gene snapped. “That son of a bitch.”

“Relax, it’s not like he can do anything about it. I just think he’s moping a little.”

 

Charlie walked into Willoughby after dinner with Connor. She hadn’t seen Cynthia in a few days and Bass had asked her to pick up some more rice so they stopped at Emily’s first. Tracy Bentley and a few of her friends were looking through bolts of fabric and Charlie watched Connor try not to flinch away from the door but she grabbed his arm and dragged him in after her. She greeted Emily and smiled at Tracy who responded but the friendly look tuned to a glare when she caught sight of Connor and all the girls abruptly looked back at the fabric and Charlie felt Connor sigh in relief next to her.

Emily, however, stood from behind the counter and started forward, her face furious but Charlie caught her before she could get to the girls and dragged her back towards the counter. “Rice, please, five pounds.”

Connor drifted over to finger the leather of a saddle and Emily bit her lower lip but nodded. “They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that sort of behavior,” the shopkeeper hissed but Charlie shook her head.

The girls only stayed a few more minutes and Connor walked over to the counter as soon as they had left. “Sorry if I chased off your customers,” he commented and Emily shook her head.

“Don’t be. I don’t know when kids got so close minded. What?” she asked as he started to laugh.

“It’s not that they mind anyone being gay as much as they mind that I’m gay. Tracy was. . .a bit of a pain in the ass. She’d already told her Mom she was going to marry me as soon as I asked. She just didn’t bother to find out if she was my type.”

Emily smiled a little. “Damn teenagers. I certainly wasn’t pushing to get married to the. . . .” she trailed off with a sigh. “Except Kyle was the first guy who asked and I did get married right after I turned nineteen. Never mind, maybe the world really has changed that much.”

“Yeah, well,” Connor said, “she’s sixteen. That’s too damn young, even if I did think anything about her.” Emily nodded in agreement as she finished measuring out the rice and scratching the balance on the credit sheet. Charlie took a quick glance and realized the balance had dropped to under thirty dollars. Bass had been buying most everything for the house there and she hadn’t shot a deer recently.

She gestured at the sheet. “Want more venison?”

“Honestly, Doug Larsen had a heifer get tangled in a fence and he put it down because the cuts were really bad. He owed us some money so he traded about two hundred pounds of meat. I want to make sure I get that all sold before I get anything else. But next week I’d love some.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Connor picked up the rice for her and she smiled at him. “See you later.”

Emily waved as they walked out and he glanced at her. “Cynthia’s?” He glanced towards Marion’s bar that wasn’t far away.

“Cynthia’s.” At his look she laughed. “We can come back by here after we’re done if it’s not too late.”

“You’re not the one carrying five pounds of rice,” he grumbled but he stepped away when she reached for it and she laughed.

“Fine, be that way. But you can’t refuse my help and still grump about it later.”

He made a face at her and she shoved him in the arm. It was moments like those she missed most about having Danny around and she blinked back tears. It still hurt – would always hurt – but she had been so focused her entire life on taking care of her brother she’d missed that somewhere along the way he’d grown up and had earned the right to take care of her back. She only wished that it hadn’t cost him his life.

As if sensing her mood, Connor’s hand reached out to touch her shoulder and he smiled a little wryly. “Do you,” he asked suddenly, “ever find yourself crying for absolutely no reason? I mean, you have a reason. But you can’t even figure out what triggered it but all the sudden you miss that person so much and you can’t believe you’ll never see them again and then you’re crying? And sometimes it goes on for a really long time and sometimes three breaths later and you’re done?”

“All the time,” she told him. “Less now. It’s been two years, since my Dad, and a year and a half since my brother. But yeah. For you, it’s even less surprising since you’ve only known she was dead for a month.”

He sighed and she watched his face contort. “I think I knew, even before I knew. Remember how I said I thought she’d married someone and forgotten about me?” When she nodded he kicked at a stone in the road, bouncing it a few feet ahead and then kicked it again. “I knew, deep down, my Mom would never just forget about me. And if I didn’t hear from her than something must be wrong. But I made myself believe that . . . so that I didn’t have to face. . .the fact I would never see her again. Pretending she was happy somewhere . . . it hurt that it didn’t involve me. But it was better than admitting to myself that she was dead.”

She hadn’t gotten that luxury with Ben, Danny, Maggie or Nora. They had all died in front of her. With Rachel . . . she shied away from the thought . She had always thought Rachel was dead. The thought of her having abandoned her family for another man was simply not one Charlie had ever entertained, especially not when the man was Miles. She still hadn’t asked Rachel why, she realized, and it might be coming up time to ask that question.

They both paused in front of the door to Cynthia’s face, pasting on pleasant smiles before Charlie knocked. Aaron opened it and stepped back. “Charlie. Connor. Come on in.” He glanced over at Connor in bewilderment, but as soon as he shut the door he turned to them. “So the rumor around town in that Carissa moved out because Jeremy cheated on her with you.”

“Aaron,” Cynthia chided, walking into the living room. “What a terrible thing to ask.”

“What. If it really was true, I’m pretty sure they’d have been arrested instead of wandering around Willoughby buying groceries.” He gestured at a small table by the door and Connor sat the bag of rice on it.”

“Still, it’s a little personal. Maybe he and Jeremy really are in love?”

“No,” Aaron said. “I’m pretty sure B. . .er, Miles son isn’t gay.”

“Just,” Cynthia said, her voice going teacher-patient, “because someone isn’t gay, doesn’t mean their children are straight too. And just because someone is gay also doesn’t mean their children will be. And just go ahead and call him Bass Monroe’s son. I already figured that out.” They all, Charlie realized, had stunned expressions, including Aaron. “What,” Cynthia said, “I’m not deaf, you know. And those two days doing watch, a few times you guys called him James but most nearly everyone called him Bass. Realizing that, it was obvious Connor was probably his son.”

“It’s been nearly a week,” Aaron finally gasped, “since we did watch. And you never once asked me about it.”

Cynthia shrugged. “You never seemed to want to talk about it. It’s okay, I understand why you didn’t tell me at first. . . even after that patrol. That would have been a bit to take in all in one night. So it that the thing you couldn’t tell me or is there something more?”

“I. . .yeah,” Charlie managed to say around her shock. “No, I think that’s just about it.” Beside her, Aaron was nodding vigorously. “Well, other than the whole plan on how we plan on dealing with the Patriots.”

“Go to D.C. and kidnap the President?” Cynthia asked calmly. When they all stared at her again she smiled. “I’m a teacher. I’ve learned to listen to multiple conversations at once and have REALLY good hearing. Miles and Monroe were talking about their plan, Aaron was asleep and I could hear enough of what they were saying to figure it out, especially since they probably thought I was too far away to hear them.”

“And again, it’s been nearly a week? Why didn’t you ask?” Aaron asked.

She smiled slightly and shrugged. “I guess I really just had to think about it.”

“Well,” Connor said, “now I think you probably do know nearly everything. And no, I did sleep with Jeremy. But Carissa needed to break up with him so she could start getting more information out of Truman and her idea was to say he’d slept with Miles but since Rachel may want to come back here someday with Miles, I offered to play his patsy. And no,” he glanced over at Aaron, “I’m not gay.”

“I said you weren’t.”

“No, you said I couldn’t be because my father wasn’t. Which, actually, the more I watch him and Miles together, the more I’m a little surprised they weren’t . . .um. . . .” He trailed off, glancing over at Charlie.

“No,” she said. “They weren’t ever lovers. Though Bass admits if they’d have met later in life, they might have been. But he says they really do think of each other as brothers.”

“Got it, Connor Bennett. Not gay. Can we move on now,” Aaron said. “The whole sexual orientation conversation has never been my favorite, no matter what the gender or preference.” He paused. “It was really nice of you to pretend to be for Miles though.”

“Thanks.” Cynthia, Charlie could see, was laughing at all of them.

“So,” Charlie asked, “what else did you hear?”

“Not that much. Just that they weren’t sure if Aaron and I were going or staying because of someone named Horn.”

“A creepy guy who apparently has a brain tumor and uses people as science projects,” Aaron volunteered. “Per Carissa he thinks Rachel is the one healing with the nanites. He sounds like a good one to avoid.”

“If you know about all this,” Charlie said, glancing between Cynthia and Aaron, “what do you think of going to D.C. Or would you rather stay here in Willoughby.”

Cynthia glanced around her house, at the pretty things and couches that Charlie knew from sitting on them were surprisingly comfortable. “Honestly, I want to stay here.” Charlie glanced at Aaron, opening her mouth to argue but the look on his face stopped her. He’d been through so much for her, Charlie realized, and there was no reason he shouldn’t get the chance to be happy, no matter how much she would miss having him with her. “But,” Cynthia’s voice had gone cold. “Those bastards changed that the day they put a knife to my throat. I hate war. But remember that day at the Patriot dinner when James – sorry, I still think of him as James most of the time.”

“Keep up that habit,” Connor urged.

“When he talked about war and needing to be ready to fight if we needed to be. I’ve thought about that a lot since I figured out who he was. And he was right. So even though I hate the thought of war, us rolling over and letting them come isn’t going to stop them, is it?” Charlie shook her head. “So yeah, I want to stay here. But,” Cynthia’s smile was absolutely fake but Charlie appreciated it none the less, “when the time comes. Road trip.”

 

Charlie and Connor left shortly after because it was starting to get dark and while they most likely safe, they decided they didn’t want to risk having to deal with any more missing Patriots raising suspicion. They walked quietly, the terrain around them seemingly empty but Charlie also had an edgy feeling she wasn’t sure was connected with being watched and more the fact things were finally starting to feel like it would be coming to a fight sooner or later.

She gestured at the bar when they passed. “Did you want to stop and get something?” but Connor shook his head.

“No. I think I want to get home and talk to my dad about. . .well, everything. That was kind of a surprise, her knowing.” She resisted the urge to try to get him to stop talking because his voice wasn’t loud and even if it did carry, he hadn’t any names or specifics.

“About you and Jeremy?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” he said absently, hand drifting to his sword and he shifted the rice to his other hand and looked like he just wanted to drop it altogether but he kept walking. He was feeling it too, she realized, and just knowing that made the hair on her arms and neck stand up. She cursed herself for leaving her crossbow in her room but she loosed the tie around the hilt of the knife at her belt and drew the glock from her waistband. Connor looked at the pistol in envy. He often wore a shoulder holster himself but for some reason he didn’t have it on. The gun would kill from farther away, but the sound of the shot would give away her position every time and she only had the fifteen rounds.

He held up a hand, pointing towards the road and she nodded, aiming the pistol at the trees and he stepped onto the grass when Miles’ voice wafted softly from behind them, “Good instinct but wrong direction.”

Charlie felt every nerve ending in her body contract and she knew she jumped at least a foot in the air as she spun around and she could see Connor doing the same thing. “Holy fuck,” Connor gasped when he landed and Charlie watched her Uncle un-blend from the shadow of a tree. “You scared the shit out of me.” To his credit, Charlie realized Connor was at least keeping his voice low.

“Yeah,sorry about that. But it was starting to get dark and we were . . .worried might not be the right word, but let’s just say we decided to take a walk. In the treeline.”

“Wait, we?” Connor asked and Charlie braced for Monroe’s voice. Even still she jerked when he swung down from a branch and landed, knees bent with only a faint thud of dirt under his boots. He dusted off his palms, his grin bright even in the spreading darkness.

“Haven’t climbed a tree in a while. That was kind of fun. What?” he asked, tone almost hurt as Miles slapped his shoulder.

“Stop showing off.”

Bass rubbed his bicep, even though Charlie was pretty sure Miles hadn’t hit him very hard. “Oh, like you didn’t do the exact same, talking like that.” He walked up and wrapped an arm around Charlie’s waist. “I wasn’t planning to scare you. . .just follow to make sure you got home okay.” But he grinned. “Should have known one or both of you two would figure out you were being watched.”

“So should I have just let them go blundering around in the woods and possibly start shooting at something?” Miles snapped, clearly still irritated or at least pretending to be. Charlie had noticed that he sometimes allowed himself to get worked up because Bass seemed to clearly enjoy pointing out the flaws in his logic and took excessive pride in being the reasonable one. Whatever, she reasoned, kept him sane and also allowed Miles to vent at the same time probably wasn’t a bad thing.

“They’re not stupid, Miles. They’d figure out there was nothing there.”

“Except it wasn’t nothing. It was us. And yeah, they might have been headed in the wrong direction but they could still tell something was watching them and it could have either gotten them shooting at something that wasn’t there or worse, they’d have gotten straightened around and figured out where we were – possibly before they realized who we were and we’d all have had a bad night.”

She could see Monroe struggling for an answer before he shrugged. “Well, okay, you might be right about that. Point taken.” Charlie was about to reconsider her theory of Miles staging the argument on purpose when she caught a look at his carefully blank face. True, he had won, but he’d done it by complimenting Bass’ son and significant other.

Connor glanced back, where the buildings of Willoughby were starting to meld into darkness but pinpricks of candlelight starting to shine from windows. “So, we need to get straight back or is anyone interested in a drink. Charlie and I were going to go after we got done talking to Aaron and Cynthia. Who, by the way, knows exactly who you are.”

“I wondered about that,” Miles said.

“Apparently she’s got great hearing,” Charlie added and Bass groaned.

“Oh, duh. A teacher. I should have figured. You remember Mrs. Craig. I sear, we even mouthed something at each other in class and she heard the air moving over our teeth. She always had the worst punishments, too.”

“What was it?” Connor asked and Miles grimaced. 

“She’d make us sit apart. Or she’d keep one of us in class during recess so we couldn’t play together. Or,” he paused, took a deep breath,” we had two 45-minute lunch periods at school. Bass and I both had second. Well, if she thought we’d been really bad, she’d make one of go to first lunch so we’d be apart for an hour and a half.” She almost laughed until she saw the haunted look on both their faces. To them, it apparently had been no joke. She wondered how they had gotten through being apart for six and a half years. Except, based on what she’d seen, neither of them had managed it well.

“Drink actually sounds good,” Bass said. “I’ll go with you. Miles, Charlie?”

“Sure, James,” Miles said, stressing the name. They had gotten sloppy again, Charlie realized. With Carissa knowing, they’d gotten back into the habit of calling his Bass most frequently.

The edgy feeling had mostly faded and Charlie walked between Bass and Miles, Bass’ hand resting against her forearm. It felt more comfortable than holding hands while walking; the comfort of human contact not constraining her hand movement.

Marion smiled at them as they walked in and took a booth. The bar only had a few empty seats spread out among other patrons but Marion grabbed the whiskey bottle, three shot glasses and a bottle of cider and walked to their table. She handed Charlie the cider and poured the shots and passed them around. “If you all want something else, let me know,” she said, dropping onto the what little seat remained in the booth next to Bass. “If not, just track your own shots. Unless you’re planning on the whole bottle.”

“No,” Connor said. “Probably just two or three each. Did you want any, Charlie?”

“Just the cider, thanks,” she said, swallowing a small sip and passing it to Bass. He raised his eyebrows and handed it back.

“That’s not bad. Maybe I’ll get one of those next time. But I’ll stick to this.” He downed his whiskey in one swallow.

“So,” Marion said, leaning over the table and little and looking at Connor. “Word has it you’re the reason Carissa Bailey moved out of Gene’s house today.”

Connor shrugged. “We all make mistakes. But if you have an issue, I’ll leave.”

Her smile wasn’t mean but it wasn’t exactly friendly. “Only problem we’ll have is you get tired of Jeremy and go see Gene next.”

Connor’s eyes widened and Charlie could see him trying to come up with a response but he finally settled on, “No, Ma’am.”

“I know I’m presuming quite a lot. But if you like Captain Baker, then you may have a thing for older men. To hear it told, Jeremy has a thing for your Daddy and is settling for you. And, your Daddy clearly has a thing,” she nodded at Miles in apology,” for Rachel. . So maybe all these ‘things’ are genetic and you like the same personality he does.” Another pointed glance at Miles. “Because if so, Gene and Rachel are a lot alike, even if she is a lot prettier.”

That surprised a glance from Miles and he finally frowned. “Where’d you hear all that.”

“Ed Truman brought Carissa in here earlier for a drink. She went home pretty quick but he stayed around for a little while. He’s been doing that a lot lately. I used to think he just liked to drink and talk to people but I’m starting to get a little annoyed with it. I could understand if no one still knew about Gene and I. But the whole town was talking about him coming by again. Right up until you and Captain Baker stole my spot of main sex scandal in Willoughby.”

“I absolutely promise,” Connor said and Charlie nearly smiled at the sincerity it his voice, “that I have no plans whatsoever of ever having sex with Gene.”

Marion’s smile was suddenly friendly again as she stood, “Well then, we’re good.”

She left and Connor glanced around. “Any chance you guys aren’t going to go tell Gene about this as soon as we get back?” He drank his whiskey in one swallow.

Bass and Miles were both grinning,” Charlie could see, as Bass grabbed the bottle and refilled Connor’s shot glass. “Sorry, no chance at all.”

Connor grimaced, swallowing his third shot but put his hand over his glass when Bass went to refill it. “Yeah, I thought so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I meant to have this posted a few days ago but it stubbornly remained 4 pages long until this afternoon, whereas it suddenly decided to move along finally. About time, I'd say. 
> 
> I finally was able to come up with an explanation that made sense for why Carissa had been talking about the President like he was President before the Blackout but we learned in 2x16 he was actually just the Secretary of Defense. I've been struggling with that one for a while and am finally happy with it. Also, it explains a little more of the more obviously over-documenting of things. Even I admit, some of it has been a bit far-fetched.
> 
> Spoiler alert: I really do mean this to be the end of Jeremy and Carissa's affair. She'll be moving along soon to go back to D.C. and while she'll definitely be back to help them kidnap the President, I don't foresee them being together again. And after so long apart, I think they'll both realize it's easier just to go their separate ways. I debated having them get back together but I don't see Jeremy "settling down" and going traditional. And while Carissa doesn't want that now, she wants it eventually. But she's had a lot more page time than I ever intended her too when I first wrote her but I think it's time to focus a little more on canon characters. 
> 
> Besides, I've finally gotten the scene written where the Neville's show up and that's one less person I have to deal with when that event happens.
> 
> I know there may be some people who would rather not know (but I figure by now everyone is also used to my notes being full of them) but I also wasn't wanting anyone to be waiting for it to happen at the end of the story and then be disappointed when it doesn't happen.
> 
> As for the Nevilles. . .well, maybe that's one thing I'll save as a surprise. Granted, since Jason will be surviving through the end of the story, we don't get the heartbreaking scene between Tom and Charlie from 2x19. I know some people didn't like it but I personally loved that episode for quite a few reasons. Charlie and Tom were probably the mean reason. What a tragic lead-up as Tom complains about his son and she knows Jason's dead. No wonder she finally couldn't hold it in any longer. Also, Rachel and Bass are FINALLY on the same page. I think they were long overdue for a good fight without Miles or Gene there to stop them. And as for the two of them having had sex sometime in the past. . .saw that one coming (now I kind of regret I minimized it here to just being them making out. Oh well). I don't see Bass kissing her as being anything other than that Rachel being right when she said he was an insecure child who couldn't bear to be alone. It seems like he's trying so hard to connect to everyone (Miles, Charlie, Connor, Duncan's men) and none of it's working and he's getting desperate and doesn't know what to do so he's lashing out in all directions. I loved his description of her as a screw driver wielding psychopath and calling her out on her complete hypocrisy. About damn time. I did like the two of them finally putting aside everything for Miles (and how great was it that Monroe was right about Miles' location right from the first, proving who really knows Miles best) It also seems Connor's finally figuring out there was more to Bass and Miles than just needing Miles to rebuild the Republic. The boyfriend crack made me laugh. And finally (glossing over everything else Miles it going through), we FINALLY found out what happened in that shed. That's been driving me crazy for months now. I have a feeling Miles is going to have a slightly different attitude when it comes to Charlie. It may be that he has been pushing her away because of what he saw that day and it actually makes a little more sense now. Still desperately hoping for Season Three.


	36. Chapter 36

Aaron walked into the kitchen Wednesday afternoon – two days after Carissa had left. He hadn’t bothered to knock, which was rare for Aaron. He looked relieved when he found Charlie seated at the table, peeling potatoes with Bass.

“Hey, Aaron, what’s up?” Bass asked and the bearded man shrugged, passing over a piece of paper. “Mrs Truman and Carissa stopped by to see how Cynthia was doing. She slipped me this when Cynthia was showing off an embroidered tablecloth her grandmother made fifty years ago. I can’t tell for sure if she really loves it that much or if she was just trying to distract Mrs. Truman and I’m afraid to ask.”

Bass’s face twisted in a surprisingly sympathetic grimace and Charlie opened the crumpled slip of paper. “Charlie – need to talk. Hoping you can stop by around seven tonight. – Cynthia” was penciled in a rough scrawl that didn’t look like Cynthia’s writing but also didn’t look like Carissa’s.

“I’m pretty sure she means to ‘drop in’ to pick up a scarf she left on the table,” Aaron sighed. 

“Not sure why the secrecy when she said she’d stop by in a few days to say goodbye to everyone?” Charlie commented, walking over to the stove and dropping the scrap of paper into the fire. “Aaron, you okay with me going back with you and staying for dinner? That way in case someone comes with her it will seem more understandable why I’m there.”

“Works for me,” he commented, glancing at the pile of potatoes she had yet to peel. “Can I help you with those?”

“Nah,” Bass said. “I can get Connor or Jeremy down. . .don’t think they’re doing anything right now other than hanging out in Jeremy’s room kicking the bed.” At Aaron’s questioning look Charlie hid a smile. “Marion stopped by a bit ago to bring some herbs she’d gotten for Gene.”

Aaron shrugged, his eyebrows going up in an unquestionable gesture of “so?” that almost Charlie laugh by itself. He’d been as broken as the rest of them leaving the Tower but he’d surprised her, getting a job as a teacher only about a week after they’d gotten to Willoughby. While it hadn’t helped much for a long time, it had at least had stopped him from crumbling further. Looking back, she wondered if his moving in with Cynthia had planted the seeds of the idea to leave Willoughby. She hadn’t connected the two of them at the time but the idea of not being in the same house as Rachel had been completely selfish and had felt so amazing when she’d dared mention the idea out loud to Miles.

She’d stopped to say goodbye to Aaron on her way out of town – which was more than she’d done for her own mother. He’d listened silently and had held her for a long time. She’d wondered if he would try to make her promise to come back but he’d only nodded in agreement when she said she had to go.

Bass was grinning openly. “Marion lectured Connor the other day about making sure he stayed away from Gene.” Aaron gaped, then actually started to laugh. “I know, right. So she gives him this whole speech – thinking he’s Miles son – about Matheson’s being attracted to Porters but he’d better keep his hands to himself. I didn’t know who was trying harder not to laugh of the four of us: me, Connor, Miles or Charlie. Well, the kid did great. Just told her he wasn’t interested in Gene and finished his drink. Well, Jeremy saw her coming and grabbed Connor. I was up in my room putting away laundry at the time and started hearing the damdest thumps. Made me wonder if they were having a go at each other after all. . .except in all the time Carissa stayed in that room it certainly never sound like that.”

“Bass,” Charlie said, “goes charging in there without actually knocking.”

“I just wanted to know what was really happening,” Bass muttered.

“And,” she continued, shaking her head at the look Aaron gave him. “we find Connor and Jeremy seated on chairs taking turns kicking the footboard to drive the headboard into the wall.”

“How long ago was this?” Aaron asked, glancing towards the stairs.

“Hmm, about twenty minutes?” Bass said, looking at Charlie for confirmation and she nodded. “The funniest part was you really couldn’t hear it unless you were in our room and Marion never even went upstairs. She left a little while ago to go on a walk with Gene.

“And let me guess, you never bothered to actually mention she was gone?” Bass and Charlie both smiled slightly.

“It really was funny,” Charlie said. “It shouldn’t be. . .but it really is. Probably if for no other reason than the two of them do make a cute couple and – other than Connor actually being straight – they’re nearly perfect for each other.”

“How so?” Aaron asked and Bass shrugged.

“Well, Jeremy isn’t willing to commit and Connor prefers professionals because he doesn’t want to get attached. If I didn’t eventually want grandchildren – and Jeremy’s very clear on the subject of kids – I’d consider trying to get him to change his mind.”

“Cuz that’s such a healthy foundation for a relationship,” Charlie muttured and Aaron grimaced.

“Relationships have started out of weirder. I mean, look at you two.”

 

“True,” Bass admitted. “And Connor was so comfortable with everything I really started to wonder. . but I think he just got a little bored. And Jeremy’s being way too campy to be doing anything other than playing to the crowd. Maybe you’d better tell them when you run up to grab whatever you’re taking with you to Aaron’s.”

“I was thinking glock and crossbow. I can hide the glock and say the crossbow’s in case I find game. I really wanted it Monday night.”

“Sounds good. Send them down, would you?”

Charlie started towards the stairs, a little surprised when Aaron followed her. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe he was doing it but she saw his lips turn slightly. “This,” he said when he saw her staring, “I want to see for myself.”

The hallway was surprisingly silent and Charlie walked in without bothering to knock. “What, show over?” she asked and the two men looked up from their seats. Connor had a blade out, honing the edge on a strop of leather.

“We,” Jeremy said, his tone a little snide, but he smiled at her and Aaron both, “are taking a rest before round two. Some of us can achieve multiples without much recovery time.”

“Not going to ask which one of you that is,” Aaron muttered and Connor grinned.

“Oh, that would be him. I come and I’m out for a solid two hours.” Charlie turned to stare at him in surprise. “What? Yeah, maybe it’s a little rude, but it’s not exactly like I can help it.”

“No, that’s not what surprised me. Do me a favor and don’t tell your dad about that, would you? I do exactly the same thing myself and he already has enough of a bug in his brain about our age difference without knowing you and I have similar sex-induced sleep patterns.” Connor’s eyes widened and she ignored Jeremy choking on a laugh because he had the grace to at least be trying to hide it, even if he was failing miserably.

“You all,” Aaron said carefully, “are really weird.”

Jeremy nodded, the back of his hand still pressed against his mouth.

“Anyway,” Charlie said, “Marion’s gone and I’m going to Aaron’s to accidently meet Carissa so can you guys go give Bass a hand finishing dinner?”

Jeremy rose immediately, Connor right after him. Charlie was about to follow them out when Aaron touched her arm. “I think that translates to ‘I’m going to meet a Patriot turncoat who’s going to help us kidnap the President of the United States at the house of a man who can light people on fire with his mind or heal his dying girlfriend without knowing how he did any of it. So will the former Monroe Militia Soldier who should be dead and the son of General Sebastian Monroe who got abducted from a drug cartel a month ago go to the kitchen of the man whose daughter caused the blackout to help THE General Sebastian Monroe cook dinner.’ Never mind what I said about the fake sex. That’s the least weird part about any of this.”

“You didn’t even mention Miles,” Charlie added and he groaned. 

“I really used to want to be someone special. . .not just ordinary. Not sure what the hell I was thinking.”

 

Cynthia brought out a deck of cards after they had eaten dinner and the three of them played go-fish. Charlie was a little surprised at how badly Aaron played considering his usually outstanding memory until Cynthia accused him of losing on purpose so they weren’t thinking he was cheating. After that, he won the next four games easily and Charlie was about to suggest something else when there was a tap on the door and Carissa walked in, shedding a tan-clad Patriot at the porch. “Hey, Cynthia,” she called, “I think I left my scarf here. Charlie?” Her voice went a little more cautious like it was a surprise. “Didn’t expect you to be here?”

“Yeah, hadn’t seen Cynthia or Aaron in a while and. . . .” she trailed off as Carissa shut the door, leaving her escort outside. “What’s with the shadow?”

“Oh, I asked for him. Said it would keep up the pretense of the area being dangerous if I walked around with an escort.” Carissa glanced at the door as they all followed Cynthia into the living room. “So I need to make this quick. We’re leaving Texas. We’ve been prepping quietly for the last few days but Truman’s making his speech tomorrow. We’ll leave Friday and after that, prepare for all hell to break loose. Davis is furious that Carver hasn’t extended our treaty so he and Truman have prepped a little surprise for Willoughbe, Andover style.”

“They’ve hired another war clan?” Aaron asked and Carissa shook her head. 

“Nope. At best, a war clan would buy us another few months. He wants permanent ties, which of course will allow him to fold Texas in when Carver dies. He needs someone prominent. A real villain. A monster that EVERYONE will understand.”

“He’d need a General-Monroe level figure at least for that,” Cynthia commented. “Texans don’t just role over for outsiders," and Carissa nodded in surprise.

“Well give the lady a cigar. She got it in one.” Charlie felt her entire body go cold and Carissa turned to grimace. “Oh, don’t look like that. Your precious Bass is safe. Truman really thinks he’s dead. But he’s got the same handler who set up Andover cooking up a fake General Monroe somewhere. Remember that conference I said Truman was looking really happy. Seems they’ve already found someone and they’re raiding. Nothing big enough to attract attention and bring the Rangers down on them. . .yet. But once we’re gone ‘General Monroe’ is going to declare himself openly and come straight for Willoughby, supposedly to settle an old score with General Matheson. He’s supposed to kill Miles and Jeremy since they can identify him as being fake. He’s also under strict orders to take Rachel alive and Gene as well to use as a hostage to guarantee her behavior. Charlie, you’re also on that list but if you give them trouble they’ll kill you too. Same with James and Connor. Aaron, I told them you’d only seen Monroe once and probably wouldn’t be a reliable source so you’re not on any list.” She took a breath. “Sorry, I want to get out of here quick so I’m rushing this. The orders are also to bring Marion in alive. Which I thought was a little odd. Truman says it’s because she can be used to guarantee Gene’s behavior but I think he’s got a more personal stake in it than that.”

“Where are you going?” Charlie asked.

We’re falling back to Arkansas, not too far away. Not sure yet if we’ll be on the old Georgia border side or the Plain Nation. Not that there’s too much difference between them now. We’re supposed to rendezvous with Horn there and wait for the pretender to bring Rachel but I think I’m going to head back to D.C. and start getting as much prepped for your arrival there as I can. Granted, if you can get anyone to be proof to get Texas to stay out of bed with them, that would be huge help and distraction. But don’t get too sidetracked if you can help it. . .the real action will be in D.C.” She took the scarf Cynthia held out for her. It was a light blue cotton with an embroidered border and she sighed when she saw Charlie looking at it. “Beth made this. She used to do a lot of needlework to keep from getting bored. But after the third time she put a needle into one of her handlers they decided it wasn’t safe. They’ll let her draw with charcoal – no pens or pencils or brushes –or use sponge paints, or crayons but paper’s pretty scarce. So she mostly just reads a lot now. So you’ve got to promise me, no matter what happens to our plans, someone will make the bastards pay.” Charlie nodded and Carissa’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. “Good. Got to run. I’ll probably not make it the house before Truman’s big speech so tell everyone good luck for me.” She surprised Charlie by stepping in for a quick hug before she headed out the door.

“Well,” Cynthia said softly, “that was what I’d call the definition of a flying visit. I suppose I should start getting ready to go to D.C.”

Charlie looked around at the house – her eyes drifting towards the room with the window still boarded that an Andover had smashed when he’d grabbed Cynthia and sliced Aaron open. “Cynthia, you have family in Huston, don’t you?” Cynthia nodded. “Maybe you might want to consider going to visit them. This could get bad. Really bad. And I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

“Well,” Cynthia said and Charlie could tell she trying to sound brave and almost managed it, “We survived the Andovers. And with the real Bass Monroe on our side do we really care about the fake one? I mean, how bad could he be?”

Aaron snorted. “Cyn, you never got to see him at his worst. And if his fake is even half as bad as the real one, Charlie has a point. Maybe safest you leave town for a bit.”

“But you’re staying?” Cynthia asked and Aaron sighed.

“I don’t want to. But I have to.”

Cynthia nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Then I’m not going either. If for no other reason than I think I’m safer close to you, no matter what happens. Besides, it’s nothing like Carissa’s debt for her sister but I owe them a little something too.” Her hand drifted to her throat.”

“We can talk about it later,” Charlie said. “Right now I need to get this information to Miles.”

“Well then,” Cynthia’s voice was firm, “Aaron and I should both walk you home.” Her protests that she was fine died at the resolute look on Cynthia’s face. The woman had a stake in this, Charlie realized, as well as – since Carissa had delivered her information so quickly, it wouldn’t hurt to have another person or two who had heard it when she was relating the information to Miles.

 

“They’re going to what?” Bass bellowed loud enough Miles winced and Gene put his fingers in his ears. He pulled them back out a few seconds later as the invective spilling out of Bass’ mouth was the usual repetition of damn, hell, shit and fuck mixed with bastard, cocksucker, douche bag and ass-wipe. But by the time he had finished characterizing Truman’s birth, breeding, education, manners, ancestry, parentage, marital status, sexual practice, hygiene habits and personal opinions on goat mating rituals he had started to wind down; at least Charlie though so until Miles asked, “Are you done yet?” and he started all over from the beginning. He was starting on the third repetition when abruptly fell silent and headed for the stairs.

Miles blew out his breath and turned to her. “Charlie, can you do me a favor and go try to talk him back down? Figuratively and literally if you can manage it.” He sighed, “I’d go myself but I don’t think I’m who he needs right now. Later, maybe. But if I go up there, he’ll just end up coming up with some hair brained scheme to stop this guy and damn if I’m not likely to let him talk me into it. But quite frankly, we need the Patriots out of Texas if we’re going to have a hope of winning this and them pulling out voluntarily can work to our advantage. And we’re going to need this guy alive as a witness to General Carver about who’s been funding his traveling horror-show.” She nodded, heading for the stairs and he grimaced. ‘If you could have him back here in a few hours that give Jeremy and I a chance to come up with some ideas. Ones that might not get every single one of us killed.

He hadn’t even managed to make it to bedroom, she realized, when she got to the top of the stairs. He was standing in the hallway, trembling and when he glanced at her she felt herself take a few steps backward.

“Good,” he said and even his voice was different. “You see what this means.” His jaw clenched and he gave her the same smile he’d given Rachel when he’d told that a hostage worked every time. “Do me a favor and leave me alone. Go sit in Jeremy’s room for a while and then go back down and tell Miles we talked and he doesn’t have to worry. I’ll do whatever the hell he wants me to. But. . . .” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I. . .I’m sleeping downstairs tonight.”

She felt a shiver run through her as she forced herself to step closer to General Monroe. “You remember telling you once I wasn’t leaving you.”

She wondered for a moment if he heard but finally he looked down at her and his eyes hadn’t softened at all. “That was when I didn’t want to be him. I have no choice right now. Not if I’m going to do this.”

“I get that.” That actually surprised a tiny frown from him and his brow furrowed. “We need General Monroe, much as we all hate it. Much as I hate it. And believe me, I do.” She wasn’t sure what the look he gave her meant. “But I promised I wouldn’t leave. And if I need him to do this for us. . .it’s not fair to leave him to go through this alone. I am not leaving.”

His hands on her shoulders were almost painful. “Were you just talking to Miles? Did he tell you to say that?”

She shrugged her shoulders away from him but grabbed his hands as he dropped them to his sides and didn’t let him pull them away. “Of course I just talked to Miles. But he didn’t tell me what to say.”

“You two can be so alike sometimes. He said that same thing to me when he cut me loose from where Neville was holding me. When he said how much he hated it and that it was true that he did. . .word for word, that’s what he said. Only you ended it with you weren’t leaving and he ended it with promising we were still brothers.”

“Do you believe he’s still your brother?” He gave her the tiniest nod. “Then believe I’m not leaving you.” She had accepted a long time ago that Bass needed her as much as she needed him. She wasn’t sure when she had realized General Monroe needed her even more. She let go of his hands and stepped towards the door of their room and held out a hand to him.

His voice was rough when he spoke. “I don’t think you understand, Charlotte. When I told you I couldn’t be the Bass you knew, I meant it. No matter how much I want to be.” He huffed a laugh and she saw the corners of his eyes were wet. “And the last person I said something like that to was Emma. Right before I ordered her killed. So you need to let me walk away before anything happens to you.”

She remembered the look on Miles’ face and the roughness in his voice as he’d spoken the last words Nora would ever here. “Listen to me. I’m not leaving you.” It was her night to quote Miles, it seemed; just as it appeared to be his to quote himself. He was on the verge of walking away for her own safety and that was the one thing she didn’t think she could stop. “Besides, what do you think will happen to me if the Patriots get a hold of us? Do you think they’ll be polite enough to just hold a gun to my head as bait? No, they’ll put a bullet through my eyes – unless they send me off to one of those camps and tattoo a number in my eye like they did to Carissa’s sister.” That got through, she realized. “So you’re a monster. But right now you’re the monster we need.” That almost broke him, she could tell and she stepped closer. “So if I can’t have Bass right now; my Bass -- the one who creeps around in the woods as dusk to make sure Connor and I get home safe – I’ll take the Bass I need. And yeah, you scare me. But I still need you. That hasn’t changed.”

“Do you and Miles think up things together to say to me and rehearse them?” She saw the flash of humor at the corner of his eyes and mouth and she felt the tension in her stomach start to relax. He was still undoubtedly General Monroe but he was also starting to embrace it rather than push everything away in his own expression of self-loathing.

“No. Why?”

He shook his head. “Never mind.” He was starting to tense up again and she paused at the door to their room.

“You coming in?”

He stared at her as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to touch her or run screaming. “I shouldn’t.”

“You’ve done a lot of things you shouldn’t have. Why let this one thing stop you now?”

“Because. . .I don’t think you know what you’re getting into. I am not a nice person.”

“A ‘nice’ person probably wouldn’t have been able to save my life that night in Pottsboro either. I don’t need nice. Our family doesn’t need nice. We need you.” It was starting to get annoying, feeling like she was spelling it out for him in painstaking detail. She closed the distance between them and set her hands on either side of his shoulders. “So, if I can’t fix everything for you, maybe I can at least distract you.”

“Miles tell you to do that?”

She hit him, a balled fist into his shoulder, hard. “Miles doesn’t tell me what to do.” He raised one eyebrow and she felt herself blush. “I see your point. But Miles didn’t tell me to do this.” Which wasn’t exactly true either. Miles hadn’t spelled out what taking a few hours to talk Bass back down might mean but she was pretty sure he had a good idea of what might work.

“Damn it, Charlie. It’s like he’s in your head right now and you’re my leash and –“

She kissed him, hard. After a moment he gave in and kissed her back. The pressure of his lips stopped just short of being brutal and his tongue was demanding and she heard him growling in the back of his throat.

When she broke the kiss she smiled at him. “Still remind you of Miles?”

“This is a bad idea.”

She couldn’t help the grin she flashed at him. “That sounds like Bass talking. If you really are all General Monroe right now, you wouldn’t care. So I’ll take my chances.”

He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the wall. “You want to meet General Monroe,” he hissed. “I’ll damn well give you General Monroe. This is not a little game to spice up our sex life by getting to have sex with someone else without actually cheating so stop playing with me like it is. When I’m like this, I am brutal and vicious and I cannot be stopped.”

“Now who’s quoting Miles?” she shot at him and she could see from his confusion he really didn’t know what she meant. “He used that description to describe the Militia when I first found out he used to be in control of it.”

The pressure on her shoulders lessened just a bit. “Oh. I heard him describe himself like that once. At the time he didn’t mean it was a bad thing.” One of his hands went to rub at his eyes. “Fuck. We really both are a piece of work. Hell, all three of us are.”

“You swear more when you’re being General Monroe,” she commented and he shook his head in disbelief.

“Of all the terrible things I do, the only one you complain about is my swearing? “

“I’m not complaining. . .just realizing it’s true.“

She wasn’t expecting him to start laughing, though she couldn’t mistake it from anything other than sorrow. “You say the damndest things some times. You always did.”

She stepped into the circle of his arms and this time he felt almost like he welcomed her there, or at least had stopped fighting.

“The family needs you. I need you. And I don’t just mean for fighting the Patriots. So I meant it when I said I wasn’t leaving.” Aaron had described a broken record repeating the same thing over and over because the needle would get stuck. Despite the complete irrelevance due to the blackout of such a concept, Charlie had been intrigued by the description and that he had chosen a record rather than a CD – she’d actually seen that a few times before the power went out. She knew appliances didn’t have feelings but she figured they’d probably feel as frustrated as she did right now if they did. Yet there was an underlying peace to it that she wasn’t expecting. The knowledge that he thought he didn’t deserve any of them made her realize no matter how far he went, there was a still a part of him that would always be there to bring him back when he was done.

She felt his lips on her hair and he didn’t resist as she walked him backwards then tipped them both onto the bed. She moved her back into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder but other than linking their fingers together, didn’t try to press him further. Gradually she felt him relax and the even breathing on the back of her neck meant he was trying to fake sleep. She could tell the actual moment he fell asleep because his arms came around her and he pulled her closer, his head burrowing into her shoulder. Asleep, he didn't actually snore but his breath would stutter and the uneven little puffs of air that meant he was really asleep ruffled at her hair.

She hooked the blanket with her ankle and pulled it up enough to grab it with her free hand. Her moving didn’t actually wake him but he mumbled something and his arms tightened like he was afraid she was trying to get away and she smiled slightly. No matter if he was being Bass or General Monroe she could work with it if he still needed her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if any of you haven't watched "Memorial Day" I highly recommend it. I almost waited because I wanted to get the chapter finished last night and after last week the Miles/Bass relationship was in a pretty shitty place. Well, it was all worth going through for last night. Episodes like that remind me why Revolution in my favorite show.
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than I planned but the next part is only partially written and I wanted to get something published because it's been a little while since I've updated. The tone of the whole story has started to change and I didn't realize how much until my playlist for writing (Imagine Dragons: Demon; Florence and the Machines: No Light, No Light) which has been two songs with a more introspective tone didn't seem to fit any more. I now have Muse: Uprising on a repeat. It has a much more active-aggressive feel to it than the other two and I think it fits where we are now a little better.


	37. Chapter 37

Charlie was used to waking up on her side, Bass wrapped around her, so when she felt the mattress against her back instead of her left arm, she felt a moment of panic until she realized the bed was too warm to have just her in it. She opened her eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, watching her and she stretched, yawning. There was a single candle burning on the nightstand and it was dark outside so she had no idea if she had been asleep for a few hours or most of the night. He smiled at her and she realized it was Bass again and she pressed her head against his arm. “Hi,” she whispered, feeling almost shy.

“Hey.” He leaned over to kiss her on the tip of the nose, which made her wrinkle it because somehow it tickled and, worse, he knew it. “Sorry about earlier.”

She shifted closer to him. “I’m not. You need to be able to express things sometimes and if we try to stop you it will probably only make it worse. And it isn’t like Miles isn’t General Matheson sometimes too. Or Jeremy. Sometimes I think the only reason he doesn’t have Captain Baker moments is because he’s actually playing him the whole time so we don’t notice. How long have you been awake?”

“About two hours.”

“And you just watched me sleep the whole time. That’s a little creepy.” She turned her head to kiss his shoulder, hoping it would ease the sting of her words. 

“Only the last hour. Miles was in here before that.”

“And I slept through it?” She felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. She might have understood it if they’d had sex first and she was in one of her post-coital comas but they’d just gone to sleep once she’d managed to get him into bed. 

“Well, we did talk really quietly.” 

If it was he and Miles, she mused a little darkly, they might have nearly skipped words altogether and just thought things at each other with possibly the occasional grunt. “How long was he in here?”

“Nearly an hour.”

And she’d slept through it. It was good for Bass to have had some time with Miles, even though she could feel mixed emotions she had slept through it. Once, she would have woken to the faintest noise. Yet, it didn’t feel like she was forgetting Danny; more like she was starting to forgive herself for him dying in the first place. “What’d he have to say?”

“Wanted to know how we were both doing. Apparently we weren’t paying attention to how loud we were. Everyone downstairs pretty much got to hear everything.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been yelling but she remembered how angry she’d been. “Oops. Well, probably not the worst thing in the world.”

“Miles says Jeremy’s pissed. He lost ten diamonds because he bet we were going to have make-up sex right away.”

“Who won?”

“Aaron. He guessed we’d sleep first.” She felt her mouth gape open and snapped it shut.

“Wow. That’s. . .I don’t even know what that is. Well, good for Aaron. Though I would have had sex with you if I thought it would have done any good.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “I’m not a charity case, Charlotte. And you’re not my therapist.” She opened her mouth to protest but he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Besides, I realized something when Miles was up here talking to me. Now, I think it did me a lot of good to hear you weren’t leaving me. Oh yeah, the downside is that Miles now knows all about our issues about him. I think he’s a little more disturbed than he was letting on. He was actually trying to be tactful. It was kind of funny. But,” his arm slid under her shoulder and he lowered his face to where he was talking into her collarbone, “I wasn’t leaving either.”

She felt her stomach contract in panic and forced the nausea to hold off at the mention of someone else she loved going away. “You tried.”

“I was trying to give you space to protect you from him. . .General Monroe. You shouldn’t have to deal with him. But I’m not leaving you either.” He flashed her a grin. “Miles said it was really important that I tell you that. He said that he understood what I meant but that you probably didn’t.” He found her hand and linked their fingers together. “So, when I’m being General Monroe –I wish I didn’t have to be, but I think, realistically, I will – I may try to push you away to keep you safe from having to deal with all his shit. But I’ll be back.”

“How about you let me decide when I need to back off rather than the other way around?”

The look he gave her was terrified. “Because I can push people away but I can’t handle it when they reject me. So if I do it first, I can deal with it.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “If you really want to know the truth, that’s it.”

She shook her head. “Well, aren’t we a piece of work?” She waited while he kissed her on the side of the head, his hand tightening around hers. “How about we put off working on that till morning. How long have we been up here, by the way?”

“About four hours. Miles said he let me sleep for about two.” She saw his eyes fill with tears. “I woke up with the bastard standing right beside the bed, staring at me and for a second I thought I was back in Philadelphia again. That would be my hell; doomed to repeat the last seven years in an endless loop. All I could think was that he was there to kill me and I deserved it.” He took several deep breaths. “And before I can do more than think ‘this is it’ he grabs the chair, sits down and asks if I’m okay. That was what I was going to ask him that night I woke up in Philadelphia. If he was okay.” He pulled his fingers from her to wipe his eyes with the front of his wrist. “Bastard knows it too. I think he even might have done it on purpose a little bit after hearing us arguing about him.”

“Do you sometimes wonder if Miles has as many issues about us as we do about him?” It was a completely new thought. It had always seemed to her like she needed him so much than he did her and she’d noticed Bass felt the same. 

Bass was staring at her, mouth gaping like he had been starting to say something and then stopped. He snapped it shut when he noticed her look. “You know, I never really thought about it before.” After a moment he grunted. “Not sure I want to think too closely about that one. It’s probably best to let him run point on this plan since it’s working pretty well so far. I’m just a minion this time. He gets to deal with the damn President when we kidnap him.” He paused for a moment. “But technically, D.C. was my territory. If I still had my Militia, there’s all sorts of things I could do to the Patriots.” He sighed. “Oh well, too late. I. . . .” he hesitated. “I dream about going back there sometimes. Like real dreams. Sometimes people welcome me back like it’s some kind of second coming. Other times I just get lynched. Both of them kind of scare me to death.”

“Well,” she adjusted her head slightly closer to his shoulder. “Miles got a lot of mixed reaction from the rebels when he first joined them. But at the end, they were following him like they’d never fought against him in the beginning. Don’t know how they’ll react to you since they had five years to get used to him being gone and you’ve had less than a year away.”

“And that whole, Monroe nuked Atlanta bullshit.”

“There is that,” she conceded. “But how the heck did we end up talking politics in the middle of the night? If Carissa’s right and Patriots are leaving Texas tomorrow, we may end up having a really long day.”

He nodded absently, his fingers scratching at the beard scrub on his chin. “Here’s a question for you? You say that you’re okay with me being General Monroe?” She nodded slowly. “But would you be able to tolerate living with him on a daily basis?”

“Depends on the circumstances. What would they be?”

“This damn beard is kind of driving me nuts and I can’t wait till I can just go ahead and shave the whole thing off completely. But I’ll look more like him then.”

She trailed her fingers across his jaw, feeling the roughness of the facial hair that was redder than the hair on his head. “I’ll figure out a way to deal with it. I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

“You should be.”

She shook her head. “But I’m not. He terrified me because it felt like I was losing you. . .and because I thought if you were leaving me it would be because of him. But now that I know that’s not going to happen?” He shook his head and she leaned in to kiss him. “He doesn’t scare me any more than General Matheson does. You, here. Whichever one of you it is. I can work with that. Now, we’re about to drift back into politics again so I’m done talking.”

He leaned over her to blow out the candle and settle back with his head on the pillow. She snuggled into his arm and he slid it under her shoulder so she was pressed against him. “So,” he said carefully. “Are you going to take it the wrong way if I take my clothes off? Because I really hate sleeping in them. But I don’t want you to think that my stripping down is because I’m expecting anything.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “It probably would be more comfortable. She hadn’t realized her bra was digging into her side until he had mentioned clothes and they both stood to remove everything and curl up back in the bed. She turned her head slightly but her eyes weren’t really adjusted yet so she couldn’t tell his expression but she did feel him start to shift his legs away from her and she tried not to smile as she slid her back firmly against his chest.

“Charlotte, I meant it when I said I wasn’t expecting anything.”

“What if I was?” she said softly and she felt him smile against her cheek.

“That would be fine.” His tone was cautious but his body was showing how much of an understatement that was.

“Good, because I was.” She rolled onto her back and turned to kiss along his jaw. “Unless you mind?”

“Not at all.”

 

She woke at dawn and crawled out of the warmth of Bass’ embrace. To her surprise, she was able to get up almost normally. She didn’t think about it until she shifted into a seated position on the edge of the bed and felt him shift so that the side of face was pressed into her lower back. She turned to glance at him and found blue eyes blinking back at her. He was still half-asleep, she decided and he mumbled something into her skin.

“You’re going to have to say that again,” she said and he yawned.

“Don’t want to get up,” he said a little louder and she smiled.

“I understand that feeling. But in this case, I’m going to need to.” Someday, she promised herself, she’d get a house with indoor plumbing. But that meant she had to survive long enough to get a house. “You’re unusually not-clingy this morning,” she commented and he responded by hooking an arm around her right thigh and dragging himself so his head was practically in her lap.

“There. Better?”

She laughed lightly, standing and he let his arm slide free against her skin. “Either it’s a good sign or a bad one?”

“Well, my. . . you . . . tell me you’re not leaving. “ She wondered if he’d edited out the word lover or woman. “Then we took a nap, my brother came in and spent an hour making sure I was okay, which you slept through. Which I take to be a testament to how much you trust me to protect you. Then we had really good sex and afterward I wake up to find you trying to get up but you’re still stark naked. So good sign.” His nose wrinkled. “Except whatever stupidity is coming down with the Patriots. That part, not so good. But I’m ignoring it for now. Miles suggested I not stress till we find out more intel.”

“Wise of him.” She gathered enough clothing to be decent walking through the house and was surprised to see him sit up. “Where are you going?”

“With you.” She must have glared at him because he shrugged. “What? You’re not the only one with biological needs. Besides, depending on what the Patriots are planning, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to always move in pairs for now. Just because we’re paranoid, doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get us. And in this case, they really are.”

She shrugged. “Fair enough.” She picked up her crossbow but shook her head when he held out the glock. “The problem is, one shot, and everyone knows what’s going on.”

“Yeah, so if we’re down there shoving swords and crossbows into them and Miles is up here asleep and if we need help a few rounds might not be such a bad thing. When they’re chasing you, you’re allowed to make some noise because they know where you are. . .maybe you want your friends to know too.” She shrugged, accepting the pistol and shoving it into her waistband. “Remind me to get you a real holster for that,” he commented. “Something to keep it more secure in case we ever have to do some real running.”

They stepped into the hallway so she was spared the need to respond as they tried to tiptoe as quietly as they could. But the closer they got to the stairs, the more she had to admit he might be right. The gun mostly stayed in one place but she’d had it shift before and she’d had the awkward task of getting it out of her pants before it had fallen deeper. Her clothes were snug enough to hold it because only walking three or five miles a day on average and eating three times a day had actually allowed her to put on a few pounds. Once they started moving again and meals became erratic or whatever she could spare, her body would start to tap that energy she was storing and her pants would start getting too baggy to use to hold the weapon. She glanced down at her chest and smiled a little. Her breasts hadn’t swelled nearly enough to wear her grandmother’s white halter dress that Rachel had showed her the day they were going to dinner at the Patriot’s but they were definitely a little bigger. She looked over to notice him staring at her. “What?” she asked.

“I was about to ask you the same question,” he said as they walked down the stairs. “You were looking kind of funny.”

She cupped her hands under her breasts, lifting them. Putting on enough clothes to go to the outhouse had definitely not included a bra. “Eating on a schedule is starting to have an effect. I think they may be getting bigger?”

“You’re just noticing that now?” His grin was nearly a leer. “I’ve been noticing that for a while. You don’t look so much like an Ethiopian child.” She wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that but decided not to ask now. “At least sharing a bed with you doesn’t feel like having a slumber party with Miles when we were twelve.” He winced like he thought she was going to hit him but she was too surprised to react.

“Do you ever think that?”

He cringed. “Can we not talk about this now?”

“No, I think I really want to.” She stopped in the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs. Biological necessities could wait. “Go ahead, explain.”

“Okay, remember that night when you got drugged?”

“How could I forget,” she said dryly. 

“It was probably about nine or ten when I found you in that bar and you didn’t wake up for about 24 hours.” She nodded. “You also remember there wasn’t a blanket on you?” Another nod. “I meant it when I said I was a gentleman the entire time. But. . .you were cold. You kept shivering and I had nothing to wrap you in and I didn’t want to risk leaving you. So. . .I just kept telling myself you felt like Miles when he was twelve. He’d always complain because no matter how many blankets and pillows he’d put between us, he knew he’d wake up with me wrapped around him”

“Did I?”

“Charlie, that was thirty years ago. I didn’t exactly dwell on it. Besides, I’d either wake up and move away before he could elbow me or I’d wake up with him elbowing me. Sometimes I wonder how Rachel deals with them. His elbows. They’re vicious. The guys teased us about always being together in the Corps so one day we offered to split up on a training exercise. Everyone bet we couldn’t hack it for the whole week but within three nights they told us we had to be next to each other. No one could put up with my cuddling or his thrashing and they decided maybe we did know what we were doing to always share a fighting position because we were used to each other. After that, anyone started to give us shit – a new guy or something – and they’d get stuck between us in the field. That usually shut them up.”

“So if it was in the Marines it wasn’t 30 years ago.”

“It has been over thirty years since he was twelve. Trust me, I was trying really hard to cling to that illusion because you were Miles’ niece. Look, I was trying to get you trust me and it was hard enough to hide how much I wanted you, even if it was because of him, wasn’t going to help. I told you that you wouldn’t like this.” He crouched in front of her chair. “I do stupid things and say them out loud sometimes. So if you’d pretend this conversation didn’t happen, I’d be grateful. You coming?” He was shifting between his feet like he was uncomfortable.

She stood, walking over to brush her fingers on his forearm. “No, I’m not going to forget it. But I also don’t mind it either.”

His sigh was the sort of jaded weariness that he and Miles sometimes shared that reminded her how much more the last decade had scrawled scars across their souls with all the casual indifference of a small child scribbling crayons across a sheet of paper. “You do know how many variants of messed up that is, right?”  
She nodded, following him to the door. “The good thing,” she said slowly, letting a smile turn the edges of her lips, “about not arguing when you said I wasn’t your therapist.. . .” She waited for him to nod. “Is now I get to remind you’re not my therapist either. So if I have an unhealthy fascination about you and Miles and how – when you’re together – you both seem to complete each other in an almost disturbing way. . .well, keep your pre-Blackout morality out of my post-Blackout coping method.”

“Would your post-Blackout sensibility involve pick-up lines about gutting fish?” She wasn’t expecting it and she actually laughed out loud then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Don’t worry," he said, his smile wrinking the corners of his eyes. "If they were watching the privy they’d have already spotted us by now.”

She gestured to the door and for once he didn’t argue with her over letting her go first. With the door firmly shut between them, she let herself smile. Despite everything that had happened in the past 12 hours, he had a point when he’d listed everything that had him in a good mood. And his own reassurances that he hadn’t actually been leaving her – just trying to give her space – somehow managed to calm the queasiness in her stomach that she’d come to live with when she’d accepted that she had a family – as unusual as it was – to care about.

 

A Patriot soldier brought them a message before noon that Director Truman was asking the town to meet him in Willoughby that evening for a surprise announcement. Charlie could see Miles getting more nervous as the assembly time got closer and she finally jerked her head at him and he followed her out onto the porch. “What’s up?” she asked and he shook his head.

“I’m probably being paranoid,” he sighed. “But I’m worried about Bass. . .if he’s up to going to this. He’d doing better today but if Truman starts going off about the menace of the Monroe Republic, I don’t know how he’ll be able to deal with it.” He sat on the railing and idly scratched at a spot where the paint had bubbled. “And the last think I need to deal with right now is one of them speculating. But they’ll speculate if he’s not there.”

“So I’ll skip too. Say I wasn’t feeling good and he stayed home to keep an eye on me.”

“That’s pretty often, between the thing after the quilting and this,” Miles commented.

“So blame it on a condition. Maybe I’ve started to suspect I’m pregnant and ‘James’ is worried about me in a crowd.” She heard his quickly indrawn breath and the sudden suspicion as his eyes raked her body. “No, I’m not pregnant.” She glanced down, going cross-eyed as studied her own cleavage. “But I could be. Maybe a few weeks. Not for real,” she added hastily. “But I was so worn down when I got here with everything that happened it took how many months before I actually started putting on weight?”

Miles nodded. “You do have a good point there. It’s actually kind of nice to not see you looking like a walking skeleton. You looked a little scary when the two of you first showed back up again. Granted, your worst was back when we were fighting with Georgia.” She almost asked him about Ethiopians but decided she didn’t want to divert the conversation further.

“Well back at you,” she commented. “You went through a bad period yourself. After Jasper.”

“I think I was living in a nightmare pretty much from the day I left Chicago with you. Seeing how it would have to end but knowing I probably couldn’t do what you needed. I thought I was going to betray you a much a I had betrayed him. . .told myself that was all I was capable of doing to people I cared about.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “Well, you didn’t betray me. And you and he. . .well, it’s clear you’re stuck together now.”

 

In the end, Rachel and Gene both decided to stay home, saying if Charlie was pretending to possibly be pregnant, they had great excuses. Since Rachel was still a potential target for the Patriots, Charlie was pretty sure Miles was pleased not have to watch her and Truman both at the same time but he still looked nervous; probably worried about splitting them up.

Charlie had tried experimenting with making soap for nitroglycerin but she’d not gotten anything recognizable as an explosive out of it – and the resulting soap hadn’t worked well either. She wasn’t sure who in Willoughby she could ask without arousing suspicion and Gene had no books on the subject either so she finally admitted her rig-the-woodpile plan was out until she could get more answers. Nora would have known how, she reflected, but while she had taught Charlie so much, there just hadn’t been time for everything.

 

Miles, Connor and Jeremy were back within about two hours and Charlie had to admit she was a little relieved they’d made it home safely as well. Miles harassed look faded as Bass handed him a bowl of stew. Connor was laughing over something and Charlie smiled at them both. “So.”

Miles grunted, gesturing at the bowl but she was pretty sure his mouth wasn’t that full and he was just using as an excuse but Jeremy grinned. “What, not going to tell them?”

“Oh shut up,” Miles snapped and he pulled an embroidered American flag patch – the same as the Patriots wore on their uniforms – and a folding knife from his pocket. “So it was the usual saved you from Andovers, mean Texas getting rid of us, the great menace of the war clan and Militias, our idyllic community, Carver being shortsighted, blah, blah, blah. All leading up to exactly what we were expecting. They love Willoughby so much they’re leaving but they’ll be back if we need them and damn Carver so all we have to do is send them a message. And then, just when I think he’s done, he starts calling people up on stage who’ve made community contributions and presenting them with tokens of esteem for their service to the Patriots.” Miles sneer twisted. “And guess who’s name was fourth?”

Jeremy was openly laughing. “You should have seen the look on Miles’ face,” he gasped. “Particularly when Truman hugged him.”

“Yep, we’re best friends now. My support has meant a lot to him,” Miles sighed, dropping both items on the table. “You’d think he was losing his best friend having to leave me in Willoughby. I’d have been a little touched. . .if I didn’t know he was planning on having me assassinated.”

Bass eyed the flag like someone would a snake. “It really bugs me to see people using it like that.” He started to reach for it. “Let me burn it. Probably the most dignified way to redeem whatever they’ve done to it.”

Miles slapped his fingers away. “Much as I agree with you, I should probably keep it until we’re sure we’re done dealing with Ed for good.”

“For good, like we’re going to kill him?” Gene asked and Miles shrugged. “Depends on what happens. It may come to that. They’re packing tonight and rolling out tomorrow morning so I think we need to have a watch tonight. Just to be sure they don’t make a play for the house before they go.”

 

The night proved to be completely anticlimactic. Charlie and Bass had second shift, between Jeremy and Connor and Rachel and Miles. The only excitement was on one of their patrols circuits, when they heard movement in the brush. Bass had drawn his sword in one hand, signaling her to wait but she’d heard the familiar crashing of an animal in the underbrush and had dropped a large yearling buck. They’d spent a little time stringing it up and Charlie was pleased to have another deer. If the fake Monroe acted anything like Andover running his war clan, she probably wouldn’t want to be out hunting while he was in the area.

When they left town the next morning, the Patriot withdraw was orderly. Most of the foot soldiers were walking in formation and Bass, squeezed between her and Miles on the same roof top she and Bass had used as an observation point they day they’d first gotten to Willoughby. There were several wagons filled with equipment and what looked like file cabinets. They saw Carissa in uniform, riding a horse near Truman and several of the other officers. There was another wagon that had cushions and a canvas cover with Truman’s wife and a few other officers wives seated in the back.

“Wish we could get a hold of that file cabinet,” Bass said, staring after it and Miles glared at him.

“So do I. But no getting stupid. Think we should go check out their headquarters. See if they left anything good?”

“Given the cholera they might have left the town a few years ago, I would recommend leaving the area alone,” Charlie pointed out and both men flattened themselves back onto the roof.

“Well, there is that,” Miles commented. “Good thinking. Well, what do you know. Take a look over there?” He pointed a finger away from where the Patriots were headed. Four men on horseback were riding towards Willoughby.

“Fuck my life,” Bass swore and Miles laughed.

“There’s not enough of them to be the fake Militia,” Charlie said. “Wait a minute, I saw them riding into town the last time I was up here too. That’s the Rangers, isn’t it?”

“Sure is,” Miles commented. “They didn’t waste time making sure the Patriots left. And check it out. John Fry.”

“Isn’t he the guy that refused to listen to you?” Charlie asked.

“Sure is. Be interested to hear what he thinks now. Hey, Bass, maybe you’d better sit this one out but I want to go talk to him.”

She was expecting Monroe to argue but he nodded, turning his pair of field glasses back towards the Patriots. “I’ll wait here for you,” he commented. “Try to see if the Patriots get off the main road. Not sure how long they’ll be in sight but I really don’t want to go chasing them on my own.”

“No,” Miles agreed. “Charlie, why don’t you come with me? Might be a good idea to have someone else along in case John Fry wants another witness.”

She followed him off the roof and into the main gates of Willoughby. She could see Julie’s brother’s and a few shopkeepers were already up on the walkway of the wall that had been manned by Patriots. The main square was mostly deserted but John Fry and his rangers were tying their horses outside Marion’s bar when Fry saw Miles.

“Hey John,” Miles said. “Don’t know if you ever met my niece, Charlie Matheson.”

“Yeah, heard you ditched the alias and were helping out these Patriots,” Fry snapped and Miles shrugged.

“Kind of hard to lie when they know exactly who you are. Pointless too. And I have a family. Therefore I have a powerful motive to avoid Patriot lynch squads. But you see my point now?”

Fry nodded, stripping gloves off and dropping them in his saddlebag. “Prentice, go get the horses stabled. Anderson, Bryant, you two are with me.” He gestured at the door to the bar. “By all means, do join me.”

Miles shrugged, pulling it open and allowing Charlie to walk in first. Marion was standing behind the counter, stirring at something and she called out, “We’re not open yet,” before she broke into a smile. “Oh hey, Charlie, come on in. I didn’t realize it was you. Miles. Her eyebrows raised when she saw the Rangers behind them. “Gentlemen, welcome to Willoughby. Can I offer you rooms?”

“We’d be happy to accept,” Fry smiled at her. “Two double rooms if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Not at all. Can I get you all some drinks while I get the room ready.” Her hand poised over the whiskey bottle and Miles nodded at her. She got Charlie a hard cider and two beers for the rangers while Miles and Fry poured shots.

“Know her well?” Fry asked as Marion headed up the stairs.

“Rented a room from her not long ago,” Miles commented. “She’s dating Dr. Porter. His daughter is Charlie’s mom. My brother, Ben, was Rachel’s late husband. Charlie’s Dad.” She felt the familiar grief but it was a dull ache that she was almost used to it.”

“Hear you have a thing going with your former sister-in-law,” Fry snapped.

Miles shrugged. “World’s a different place than it used to be, John. Ben was a much better person than I was but he’s dead and I’m still alive. Rachel and I have known each other a long time. There’s something to be said for not having to explain my past to someone.” Charlie almost smiled at how similar that sounded to her.

“So, tell me about this work you were doing for these guys?”

“They’d get meat in and we’d clean it and smoke it.” Miles said. “There was a little more to it but that’s all I’m really comfortable saying right now. Until I know for sure which way Texas is going.”

“That’s smart,” Fry growled. “Had a feeling you were running a con on them. But you’re right. This conscription thing they pushed too far got Carver all riled up but it won’t take long to un-rile him. Especially if this re-formed Militia we’re hearing about it coming out of the lower Plains and Georgia. Man’s got a bug in his brain about Sebastian Monroe, even though I’m not sure it is Monroe. But I can’t promise him that so I’m stuck babysitting the area till we get more information.”

“They’re bad news, John,” Miles said. “The more I worked with the Patriots the more I believed it. Did what I had to get close to them. I’ve got more proof this time than I did last time.”

 

“It’s going to have to be something Carver will listen to.” Fry paused and leaned in close so Charlie doubted even his own men heard him. “You’re going to need to get me hard evidence.”

“Got any idea where to start looking?”

“Word is Sebastian Monroe is headed towards Willoughby.”

“See,” Miles said, “doesn’t that alone make you smell a rat. No one’s heard about Monroe in months, then suddenly – just as Carver gets pissed at the Patriots –he turns up. And headed towards Willoughby of all places. How does Carver not see through that.”

“I thought the same thing. But Truman covered his base on that one. Word is Monroe’s after you.” Miles’ face reflected grudging admiration and Truman stared closely at him. “Not quite the reaction I’d have expected from you, Miles. You two did pitch Georgia and the Republic pretty hard against each.”

“Yeah, well, that was a while ago.”

Fry snorted. “Not even a year. I’ve been wondering about that. One minute you two are battling it out up above the Carolinas. . .and then all the sudden you’re here in Texas? How? And why?”

“Walked a damn long ways.” It had been a long walk, Charlie remembered, tramping between Colorado and Texas with a suicidal Rachel and Miles, Aaron and herself in various stages of grief and depression. “I was counting on Rachel’s dad still living here. She was going through a bad spot and it was the only thing I could think of.”

“So what makes you so sure this isn’t really Monroe?”

“Because I know Bass. He wouldn’t raise an army and show up out of the blue. We’d have heard about recruitments, training camps, something.”

“Not if he’s recruited from war clans. And unlike when the two of you did this the first time – built everything from scratch – a lot more people know how to fight.”

Miles shrugged. "I'll give you that. But you don't really think this is Monroe, do you?"

Fry shook his head. "No. But Carver does. And he's still my boss."

"You said you were going to be in the area," Miles commented. "Any chance of getting more Rangers up here?"

"Carver believes Monroe is playing for Austin. Maybe take over Texas completely. He thinks you're a diversion at best. Says I should just hand you over to him and be done with it. Which I am almost tempted to agree with. . .but these guys are giving me the creeps."

"You know they kill me and the Patriots come in a kill them."

"And Carver's so grateful he signs a permanent treaty with them, just for killing Miles Matheson and Sebastian Monroe. Yeah, I know how this works. Our job is to ensure the Patriots have withdrawn from Texas and then go back to protect Austin from the menace of General Monroe."

"Damn it," Miles griped. "So in other words, I need to get you proof that this isn't Monroe and whoever it is has the Patriots behind it."

"That would probably do it," Fry said. "When you get it, send it to Austin. I'll make sure Carver gets it and listens. Something working in your favor is General Blanchard, retired, thinks they're creepy as hell and wants nothing to do with them."

"Damn," Miles sighed. "If I'd have known that, I wouldn't have tried to have him assassinated that one time. What a waste. I should have told you all to go fuck yourself but I was being stupid and let my protégé take the fall for it. Had to kill him in Atlanta when Bass sent him to. . .kill me." Charlie heard the stutter in his voice but Fry didn't seem to notice or care if he did."

"Always knew you were behind that. So did Blanchard. Which is why we didn't kill the guy. Thought it was a little unfair given the fact he was just following orders."

"Yeah, it was. What can you say, I was a jackass." One of Fry's eyebrows arched up and Miles grimaced. "Okay, I was worse. But people can change. I did."

"Pity you didn't get your partner to change too," Fry rumbled. "That would have saved us all a world of trouble." He glared at Miles. "What?"

"What?" Miles sat up straighter.

"You and Monroe used to be joined at the hip, then you try to kill him but can't, then five years later the two of you fight a war that gets parts of the East Coast melted --"

"I told you that was the Patriots, not Foster and Monroe," Miles said and Fry waved his hands.

"Fine. The two of you fight a war so no one questions it when parts of the East Coast get melted. Better?" Miles waved a hand. "And yet now I mention him and you are completely indifferent. Seems a little unlikely."

"Family can change your priorities," Miles said firmly. "I have Charlie and Rachel to think about. And you've heard about my finding out I have a son, haven't you?"

Fry nodded. "Yeah. I think it's a load of horsecrap but I heard about it."

"I would love," Miles said, "to know who your source is."

"I'll bet you would. The Patriots might have thought they had this town in their pocket but this is Texas. We know how to get information. No, I think the boy is one of your old resistance contact that you brought in to help fight the Patriots. Having a son you never knew about hidden away in Mexico just was a little too convenient. Though my source did eventually start to believe it. Said you had way too much of a family thing going."

Miles shrugged, non-committal as Marion came down the stairs. "Gentlemen, I have your rooms ready. I usually don't serve lunches but I'd be willing to fix some sandwiches for you."

"That would be much appreciated, Ma'am," Fry said. "Thank you very much. Go ahead and put the whiskey, my men and the lady's beer on my account as well."

Marion smiled, nodding towards Charlie. "The whiskey and the beer and thank you. I don't charge Charlie for her cider. I make it special, just for her grandfather."

“Thanks,” Charlie said. “You don’t have to do that.

Marion shrugged. “Let me, would you please?”

“Of course.” She would, she decided, bring Marion some venison the next time she came to town.”

“Go get the packs in the rooms, would you, Gentlemen,” Fry said, jerked his head towards the stairs. Marion led them out and Fry turned back to Miles, all traces of friendliness wiped off his face. “All right, Miles. Cut the crap. How sure are you this cocksucker headed this way isn’t your former best friend.”

“Absolutely sure.”

Fry sighed. “Well that’s just fucking peachy isn’t it? Together again, huh? How the hell do I explain that to Carver and still have him believe me? Oh don’t look so shocked. I can do math. And the two of you always were more of a menace together than you ever were apart. It’s this guy supposedly shacking up with your niece, isn’t it?”

Charlie felt herself go cold but Miles beat her to any action, his face morphing into General Matheson in an instant. She’d told herself she was used to seeing them both but it was still startling and she wondered for an instant what would be to see them standing next to each other; General Monroe and General Matheson. “You accuse anyone of being Sebastian Monroe and you don’t need to worry about what the Patriots do to your country. There won’t be enough left of it for them to even care about.”

Fry snorted. “So I’m right, am I?” His smile went a little smug. “Thought so. No one got you two so worked up. Relax, I’m certainly not reporting this to Carver until I know which way he’s going on this Patriot thing. You notice I made sure my own men don’t even know.”

“Why was that?” Charlie heard herself ask and was surprised how steady her voice sounded. Fry stared at her for a long time before he answered.

“Because I’m starting to agree with Blanchard. And the first person to tell me we would have a problem with them was Miles. Then he gets in bed with them in public, which means he’s probably trying to stab them in the back, knowing Miles.”

“I’ve changed,” Miles cut in. “Besides, it works both ways. They used me and then put my name on the short list for assassination.”

Fry smiled. “Well how dare they? But, as I was saying, if Miles is willing to be patient to take them out, that means he’s really worried. And to find out he and Monroe are on the same side? Well, that means something even worse forced them to set aside their differences and that actually means something to me. So you get me my proof. Something I can take to Carver that makes him care more about the Patriots than he does about Monroe.”

“Will you accept the fake Monroe as proof?” Miles asked and Fry shrugged.

“That will work. He’ll either have to admit it or you’ll have to have plenty of trustworthy witnesses. Maybe even both. And you have to give your word to Carver you’ll not try to annex Texas.”

Miles nodded. “Let me see what I can do. And John, thanks.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” Fry grumbled, the turned to Charlie. “So, is any of it true or is just the rumor to get him into the house.”

“It’s true now,” she admitted and Fry nodded like it was a good thing. “And that son of Miles?”

“The rebel contact?”

“Not a rebel contact. But not Miles’ son either.” Miles was looking at her like she was crazy but she looked Fry straight in the eyes. 

It took him nearly a minute to think through all the implications and he groaned. “Where the hell did Monroe come up with a 25 year old kid?”

Charlie shook her head. “Not important. But you heard Miles say things were different because he had family now?” She waited for Fry to nod. “Well that’s true. But it’s also true that Bass has family now too. And that does change people.”

Fry shook his head then settled his forehead into his hands. He finally stood, grabbing the whiskey bottle that was still full other than the few shots the two men had taken. “Hard proof.”

“Hard proof,” Miles sighed, standing. “We’ll be in touch. Come on, Charlie.” She pushed herself away from the table as Fry headed up the stairs. “Great,” Miles growled, mostly to himself she thought. “This will be great fun.” They walked out into the street and he glanced around to make sure there was no one close enough to listen. “So, why’d you tell him about Connor?”

“You said yourself that having a family changed things. I’m hoping that Fry realizes that’s true for Bass as well. Did you know he’d figure it out?”

“No. But I should have. Fry’s not stupid. Maybe I should have pretended to have doubts about this fake Monroe but I just couldn’t do it.” He reached up to scrape his palms over his temples and eyes. “Bass isn’t going to like this?” At her questioning look he sighed. “He’s going to want to kill this guy. And now we’re going to have to convince him we need to capture him as well. And come up with a trap to do it too that doesn’t get half the town killed.” They went back to collect Bass from the rooftop but Miles shook his head when Bass asked what had happened. “You’re not going to like it,” Miles said. “But do me a favor and wait till we get back home because I think we’re going to need some more ideas than just yours and mine.”

 

“So Fry knows who I am and he’s not having me arrested? Why?” Bass asked, leaning back in his seat at the table as Jeremy shifted in his seat.

“I think these guys have him more freaked than he’s letting on. But he made it pretty clear. Deliver the fake Monroe and have some witnesses. Which isn’t going to be easy. Especially not if we’re protecting the town at the same time.”

“Not when they’re the cavalry, riding in to save the day,” Gene pointed out.

“I’m not so sure they will be,” Jeremy muttered. When they all turned to look at him he sighed. “Look, I’d love to be wrong here. But I think Willoughby is the sacrifice. The Patriots protected it and Texas drove them out. So if the town is slaughtered then they get to say ‘I told you so’ to Carver. And,” he grimaced at Miles. “People in this town think well of you. You saved them from the Andovers before the Patriots arrived and that’s never really been forgotten. But you know their Monroe is a fake and you’re also a potential rival. Everyone can see – retired or not – you’re still someone that people follow. That’s bad for them. But they have everything to gain from your death.”

“So how do we stop them without getting everyone in the town killed. And how do we get people who have never met Bass Monroe be witness this isn’t him?”

“We’re not going to have to do that,” Bass said. “Carver’s met me. He’ll know whatever douche they get to play him is the wrong guy.”

“Except I’m not sure Carver’s quite all there anymore,” Miles sighed. “From what Fry says, he sounds a little off his rocker. It’s been a few years. . .and we don’t know how much this guy looks like you?”

Charlie watched Rachel inhale deeply and close her eyes if thinking. Her mother held her breath for a long time then slowly exhaled. Everyone had turned to her by the time she had opened her eyes again and Connor glanced between Rachel and Miles like he wasn’t sure what was happening. “Carissa said,” Rachel said slowly, “that Horn left orders for this pretender to get me.”

“No. No way, Rachel,” Miles snapped but Rachel ignored him.

“So if we’re going to get him, we need to use me as bait.”

“I have to agree with Miles,” Bass said. “It’s too dangerous.”

Rachel’s sigh was tired. “I didn’t actually say I needed to be there. We just need them to think I am. Charlie, Carissa said me and Marion both, didn’t she?” Charlie nodded and watched Rachel smile. “Wasn’t it always, in movies, where they’d put all the women someone to keep them safe, that was the place the monster ended up going.”

Miles shook his head. “That’s exactly what happened. Which is why we’re not going to be so stupid.”

“Yes,” Rachel said firmly. “We are. And we’re going to have people there who Carver can’t debate are witnesses when the fake General Monroe admits who he isn’t.”

“When I’m trying to deal with a Militia?” Miles ranted. “You saw what happened last time Willoughby got breached. It was a slaughter. So I’m tied up and meanwhile this psychopath is in a target-rich environment with a whole bunch of women and children. Why would he admit he’s not really Monroe.”

Bass was staring at Rachel but his face started to twist into something that wasn’t a smile. “Because I’ll be there.”

“He won’t know you?” Miles snapped. “Don’t even start buying into this or I’m tying you both to the wagon and getting your asses out of town.”

“By the time I’m done with him, he’ll know me,” Bass growled.

“So what’s to stop the witness from lynching you on the spot?”

“Miles,” Jeremy said. “They’re right. It’s got to be this way. Besides,” he sounded slightly more cheerful. “If we do this right it’s mostly women in the room. And after he cooked for them at the quilting party, most women are eating out of his hand. So if Cynthia and Charlie are there too. . .it might not be quite as bad as you think.”

 

The Rangers were gone with Miles and Charlie went into Willoughby around noon to talk to Cynthia but Charlie could tell people were scared. They hadn’t even made it to Cynthia’s house before a group made from farmers and shopkeepers stopped them and asked Miles to come with them to a meeting they were putting together on defenses. He asked Charlie to go on without him and she watched him leave, the way the other men were deferring to him and not even waiting until they were out of the street to start bombarding him with questions on what they could do. She’d missed the entire Andover invasion but she was forcibly reminded of how hard he’d fought to protect Willoughby before.

Aaron and Cynthia took the news with a combined mixture of irritation and acceptance. Charlie wasn’t able to convince Aaron to stay at home or take a spot on the wall but she did eventually get him to agree to hide with Bass. Horn getting Rachel would be bad, she realized, but nothing compared to what he could id he was able to get a hold of Aaron, even if she wasn’t sure Horn even knew Aaron existed.

Miles came back late that afternoon and glared at Rachel. “It’s done,” he sighed, spooning stew into his mouth. “When the Militia are spotted, the women and children are headed towards the Civic Center. Bass, Aaron, you’ll both be there waiting for them. You’ll have a few men in the area. I got Peter Russo – the judge – to be one of them. I figure he can play witness to Carver. I really hate this.”

 

Charlie felt the whole town was walking on eggshells but it wasn’t until Monday morning – a full 72 hours after the Patriots has left Willoughby – that she started hearing the church bell in the center of Willoughby chime sharp tones as someone dragged at the bell pull in intervals of three – the signal the Militia had been spotted. She grabbed the pack she had ready and met up with Rachel and Connor on the stairs. Gene had his medical kit and he embraced his daughter and granddaughter briefly.

“Love you both. Take care.” Charlie didn’t trust herself to speak and she didn’t hear what Rachel whispered to Gene. Miles, Jeremy and Bass hadn’t been home all night so she did a quick check of their weapons and took up the rear as Connor led the way from Gene’s into the main square.

The women and children were starting to cluster near the lawn and Charlie was relieved to see Aaron trying to direct them inside. Charlie caught sight of Marion and Rachel pulled her in for a quick hug. “I love you, Charlie,” Rachel said and Charlie felt her throat close.

“Love you too, Mom.” She had already lost sight of Gene as he headed towards one of the walls and she felt Connor’s hand on her shoulder.

“You good here?” he whispered and she nodded.

“Yeah. Go.” He bear hugged her but let her go just seconds later and he and Rachel darted into the crowd, holding hands to keep from getting separated. She saw them reappear a few moments later, one on either side of Marion and then they were pulling her back towards the bar. The older woman looked confused but not upset and Charlie watched till she lost sight of them and turned to where Aaron and Peter were trying to get women and children – most of them milling around hoping for a last look at their men – headed inside.

The civic building was built of brick, appearing solid, but it actually formed part of one wall of Willoughby and Charlie knew Miles had chosen it because it had identified it during the Andover standoff to be one of the weak points. Since the majority of the clan had entered by the main gate, she was pretty sure very few people knew it had ways in around it; the fact they were all counting on.”

She lingered outside – ignoring Aaron’s pleas for everyone to get inside – fingering her crossbow and checking her magazine of bullets to make sure all her weapons were ready to go in case they weren’t able to stop the pretender. She felt more than heard footsteps behind her and Jeremy dog-trotted across the square. “Miles wanted me to tell you James is already in place. He wants you to get in there so we can get the doors closed.” They’d picked an attic to hide Monroe from everyone else inside, not just his imposter and he’d been supposed to link up with her before he got in place but she supposed something must have changed. She gave him a thumbs up sign, hoping Rachel and Connor had gotten into the basement Gene knew was in Marion’s bar.

She walked backwards, keeping her bow trained out as she moved into the civic building. There were probably forty women and children there. She was pleased to see that many of them had some kind of knife, axe or farm implements with them. She caught sight of Lila brushing away tears and walked over to where the woman was waiting with Emily.

“You doing okay?” Charlie asked and Lila sniffed.

“Yes. It’s. . .well, Bradley and Tracy are out there on the wall. She insisted that if the twins were being allowed to be on the bucket brigade that she was old enough to take a watch on the wall.” Tracy was sixteen, Charlie recalled. She remembered herself at that age and wasn’t surprised that the girl would insist. “I should be out there with them. . . .” She broke off, a fresh sob shaking her and Emily curled her arm around Lila’s shoulder.

“Lila,” Emily said firmly, “Brad is right. You need to be here.” She looked over at Charlie. “She’s over a month late. Might have another baby on the way and Brad insisted. So did Kyle. Said I needed to be here with the kids. That even if something happened to him, he was okay with that, knowing they still had their mom.”

She felt a moment of panic, knowing that her family had put them in the middle of a trap but she caught sight of Cynthia and the teacher nodded at her from across the room as if in reassurance and reached up to deliberately touch her throat and Charlie nodded at her. It was their only choice, she decided. If they could get Texas fighting the Patriots, the price might be painful but people she knew were no more important than everyone in Philadelphia. In Atlanta. In any town that had lost people to war clans paid off by Truman and his like. She shifted her grip on the bow. And just because they were here, didn’t mean she’d just let them die either. They might need the pretender alive, but not necessarily uninjured.

They’d waited almost six hours – enough time for her to get two progress reports from Miles and Gene to stop in to check everyone. They ate a meal around noon of bread and cheese and Charlie was just considering trying to get a nap when she heard the unmistakable sounds of an explosion across the town and Marybeth sat up from where she’d been resting her head on Peter’s shoulder. “That’s bad,” the older woman sighed. “I thought we’d finished with this shit.”

“Appears not,” Peter said, standing and stretching himself. “Charlie, where do you want me? Miles made it very clear that you were in charge here but may I suggest I cover that hallway?” He pointed towards the blocked off door that was closest to the wall.

It was a good suggestion under reasonable circumstances but Charlie shook her head. “I’ve got that one. Do me a favor and make sure anyone that comes in the main door is someone we know.”

“I’m not so sure this was such a good idea.” Marybeth muttered. “I’m suddenly remembering every movie I ever saw that ended with the women and children getting slaughtered. Maybe we should split up a little more?”

Charlie shook her head. “Can you trust me?”

Marybeth looked surprised but nodded. “Of course.” After a moment she cocked her head, looking at the plywood over the door. “I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

There was a splintering sound as the outer door by the wall caved and Charlie looked up to meet Cynthia’s eyes across the room. The teacher nodded at her calmly, even though the furrows in her brow were evident from half-way across the room. Emily’s breathing was harsh as footsteps echoed down the hallway. They were just a little too measured, as if whoever it was wanted so sound threatening. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was just because this was hardly more than another day for her or if it was because she knew that it wasn’t Monroe walking through the door.

The lock on the inner door held him off for two jiggles of the handle before he simply kicked it and Emily whispered, “He’s here,” as if her silence could hide them from his eyes.

The pretender walked into the room as if it were his own and Charlie made sure to keep Emily between the two of them so he didn’t see her. He was tall – probably taller than Bass – with a tight gray shirt and black pants, sword gleaming in the candlelight. Charlie heard gasps of panic and the pretender looked around. “Everyone here,” he called, “can make this quick and easy. I’m looking for Rachel Matheson and Marion Kelly. I get them and I leave the rest of you alone.”

Cynthia stood up, her voice quavering but Charlie wasn’t sure that was fake. “I’m Marion Kelly. What do you want?”

Most of the women in the room looked startled, some of them glancing around like they had just noticed Marion was missing.

“Hello there, beautiful,” the pretender purred, stalking up to her with a measured stride that was supposed to be imposing. Charlie wasn’t sure if it was because she was used to seeing Bass and Miles move or if it was because she knew he was a fake that he didn’t look threatening to her.

Dangerous, yes, no more than any man who would have walked in, dragging a weapon with him.

Cynthia stood up straight when he walked towards her, though her hands were shaking slightly. "What do you want?" Her voice was wavering but she half-turned so she was between the man and several of the other women. 

Cynthia’s job was to stall and she knew it, but Charlie was impressed how a clearly terrified Cynthia still managed to look fierce. Her job was to be concilitory – to try to get Charlie to back down – since a compliant hostage was often in less danger than an uncooperative one.

He grabbed Cynthia on the shoulder, putting her between him and Peter as the judge came running back down the hallway, pistol in hand. Peter clearly realized he couldn’t shoot without hitting Cynthia and Charlie shook her head when he glanced at her.

"In case you didn't realize, I'm General Sebastian Monroe. And if you all let me take Marion Kelly, Rachel Matheson and Gene Porter, we’ll have no trouble here.” If the man thought he was sounding menacing by his bluster, he'd clearly never heard Monroe's shouts or Miles' whispers.

Charlie stepped clear of Emily, the pretender between her and Cynthia. If possible, Cynthia turned even paler when she saw Charlie and her hands jerked, as if she were trying to get Charlie to hide again without being obvious.

"It's alright." Charlie said, her voice loud in the still of the room. "That's not Sebastian Monroe."

She heard Jane gasp behind her and Julie whimper but she took a firmer grip on the blade she had at her waistband.

"And who are you?" the man asked, glancing sideways at her but he was still mostly focused on Cynthia.

"I'm Charlie Matheson."

This time the man swung fully to face her and nodded. "Miles Matheson's niece? We have plans for you." He glanced around the room. "The girl is lying. I am Sebastian Monroe." He jerked his sleeve up and a black M in a half-circle scrawled across his forearm. Charlie heard someone behind her start crying but she snorted.

"And that's what you've got as proof?"

Cynthia made a shushing motion and the man turned back to her at the motion. "You," he said to Charlie, "are coming with me." He glanced back over at Cynthia. “You both are.”

The pretender drew a sword and put it at Cynthia's neck. "Unless you want me to slit her throat you'll get down on the ground. Where’s your boyfriend I was told about. "

"Charlie," Cynthia pleaded. "Do what he tells you? I'll be all right. Please, Aaron would never forgive me if anything happened to you."

There hadn’t been time to plan much of a script and Miles had told them both to just say what came to mind when the time came; anything to play for time and delay the pretender.

The man laughed, his arm going around her shoulder. "That's a good girl."

Charlie said, "Do you think Aaron would forgive me if I let anything happen to you."

" There's nothing he can do to me that my ex didn't already do."

"He can kill you," Charlie said and Cynthia surprised her with a strange half-smile.

"Can he? I'm not so sure. But he can kill you. Charlie, please. "

"They say," the words were bored but Bass' voice cut through the whole room as he descended the staircase from his hiding spot, "that when the real Sebastian Monroe heard what happened in Philadelphia he put a knife into the fire and burned off his tattoo because he had failed his people." Charlie saw his gaze fixate on the pretender. "Who the hell are you?"

The man snorted. "Everyone knows General Monroe."

Bass took another step further down. "Doesn't that get old? Someone else gets all the credit for what you do? Wouldn't you like to be famous for yourself? As the man who killed General Monroe." He raised his forearm to flash the burn scars and Charlie heard several soft screams.

Emily’s voice was shaky as she gasped, "James?" as the pretender released Cynthia, shoving her back as he started towards the staircase.

"Is it really you?" The pretender asked, his lips turning up.

"Try me and find out." Bass commented, coming down the last few steps. "So tell me, why only part of the tattoo? Mine had my name under the M."

Their swords clashed together and Cynthia scrambled over to clutch at Charlie. "James is just playing a trick, isn't he?" Emily gasped and Charlie shook her head. Peter had gone white, gun raised towards both of them and Charlie stepped closer to touch his arm. He let her push it down so the gun was pointed at the floor without ever taking his eyes off the two men.

In an ordinary fight, the pretender wouldn't have been too bad. He was clearly strong and fast, but not nearly enough. Bass wrestled his sword away from him quickly and proceeded to punch him in the face several times. The man landed hard and Bass kicked the sword away before he got a grip on the man’s hair and pulled him to his knees.

“Now, I’d love to kill you. But Miles convinced me we needed you alive to identify who hired you.” The man was gasping, as if he didn’t have enough air and Bass stared at him, his booted feet spread apart and his face showing profound irritation until his eyes drifted to the tattoo.

“Then we’ll see if someone can talk me out of killing you. That might have been just a cheap trick to you but people burned that onto their own skin once as a symbol of loyalty.” He turned to look at Charlie and she could see how close he was to snapping and she shook her head.

“It’ll come off?” the man squeaked, his breath coming fast as if he were hyperventilating. “ Truman wouldn’t let me get it tattooed for real. That’s why it doesn’t say ‘Monroe.’ The dyes bled too much for the smaller letters. It’ll take soap and kerosene but it’ll scrub away.”

Charlie sighed in relief as Bass’ face relaxed a little. “How long have you known?” Emily asked her quietly and Charlie signed.

“The whole time. “

“So was it some kind of act? The two of you?” She looked between them, then shook her head. “I really thought. . . .”

“It started an act. It’s not one now.” She was aware everyone in the room was listening. 

“So that’s why your mother always seemed so unsure of him,” Marybeth commented. “You could have told me.”

“Everyone was having a hard enough time with Miles’ identity. They only accepted him because of what happened with the Andovers. So when Bass and I showed up later, they’d have hung him or shot him and no one would have thought anything other than the evil Sebastian Monroe was dead. But there’s a lot more to him than the monster. Though that’s there too. But we need it right now. “

“I heard him,” Peter said, “say that Truman wouldn’t let him have the tattoo. Did he mean Director Truman?”

The pretender nodded. “Yeah. He hired me to come and terrorize the town while their garrison was gone. They’d have been back in a few days to chase us out.”

“They wouldn’t have chased you,” Charlie snapped. “They’d have slaughtered you and hung your body up to rot as a symbol to the town about how much they were needed. They did the same with Titius Andover.”

One of the women started crying, which Charlie thought was pointless now that she was no longer being threatened until she remembered that the woman was one of the farmers whose husband, son and brother had all been killed by Andovers.

Monroe got a grip on the pretender’s hair and dragged him to his feet. “So, what’s your name?” Bass asked, teeth clenched.

“John Smith. Ow, no really, Jonathan Parker Smith was what my parents named me. I swear.” Bass traded a grip on Smith’s hair for dragging his arms behind his back and strapping them together with a webbed belt. 

“Come on,” Bass snapped. “Let’s go get your men, pretending to be my men, to stand down.”

“They won’t be in the town yet,” the pretender whined. “I was told about this entrance and was told to go find Rachel and Charlie Matheson, Gene Porter and Marion Kelly. My men are providing a distraction outside until I got back with them then we were supposed to wipe the town off the map.”

 

“So that,” Rachel finished, “is the compressed version. And that’s why Bass and Miles are both living here.”

They were sitting in the main room at the civic center less than an hour later. Most of the families had already gone home. Jeremy was guarding the fake Monroe but the sight of their leader with a gun to his head and scattered most of his followers when they found out they wouldn’t be getting their paycheck. He’d had less than a hundred men with him but also enough explosives to level the town once they were done getting their hostages.

Peter shook his head, exhaling. “Damn. Just Damn.” He glanced over that Gene, who nodded.

“All true, Peter. I swear.” Charlie saw the Judge’s hands shake 

“Someone needs to go warn President Carver.” He turned to stare at Miles expectantly.

“I agree. But we have to be headed to D.C. to try to stop them. And will Carver believe us even if we do go to him. I mean, Matheson and Monroe? It’s just a plot right? But if it comes from someone else. Real Texas citizens who mean something in the community?”

“I get what you’re saying,” Peter sighed.

“Send a message to John Fry to meet you. Don’t give Smith to anyone else,” Miles cautioned.

Peter nodded. “Got it. When do you leave?”

“Within a few hours,” Bass stated. “We’ve been expecting it for a while but that will give a chance to tie up a few loose ends around here. We’ll leave you Mr. Smith to take as a witness for Carver.”

“A few hours?” Charlie could hear the curiosity in Connor’s voice. “So we have a little time. Not that we won’t be busy but it won’t be this second.”

“No,” Miles agreed. “Give us time to pack and eat breakfast. Get the horses saddled.”

“Got enough time for a wedding in there?”

Everyone, including Charlie, turned to stare at Connor in shock.

“Who,” Peter said slowly, “are you thinking of marrying?”

“Not me.” Connor’s gaze, darting between her and Bass was almost a little pleading before he focused on Bass. “You said you didn’t want to marry her under a fake name. I totally get that. But right here, now, you’re not James Kingston any more. That may not last long. And we have no idea how long it will be until that changes again.”

Bass looked absolutely stunned and Connor turned to her. “I know this seems sort of stupid; me wanting you two to get married like this. But I meant it when I said someday it might matter and when will you get this chance again? And you can’t blame him for not thinking about it. He’s been busy.”

She laughed and reached a hand out towards Connor. Bass, she noticed, was still frozen. “No, I don’t blame him. To be honest, I never thought about it myself so why would I expect him to either?”

Peter was glancing between them, eyebrows raised and Charlie watched Bass physically shake himself and then turn to her. “Charlie, can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course.” She gestured towards an empty room and he started to follow her but stopped when Connor cleared his throat.

“Um, so. . .is this a maybe yes or maybe no because if it’s a yes we’ll have to get something organized.”

She exchanged glances with Bass, who shrugged helplessly. Connor looked irritated and she smiled at him. “It’s a maybe yes. But don’t go overboard on those preparations because I might change my mind.”

The room was an old office with a desk, and a few chairs but there was a small couch and he seated them both on it. “Are you okay with this?” he asked slowly. “With me not thinking about it and actually proposing properly?”

“Bass,” she leaned over to kiss him on the shoulder, “remember what I said about pre-blackout sensibilities? You might have an idea about what a proposal is supposed to be like but I honestly don’t. Hell, I’m not even totally sure marriage really matters except to Connor. With everything he’s gone through, it seems mean to deny him that.” She saw an instant flash of hurt in his eyes. “To me, it doesn’t matter about my name. Matheson or Monroe. . .I’m not leaving you. A piece of paper won’t change that.”

Bass looked startled, standing up and moving a few feet away, though he kept hold of her hands and then exhaled a shaky sigh. “You don’t have to be Charlotte Monroe if you don’t want.”

“Getting cold feet?” The thought hurt for a moment that he was changing his mind but one look at his face and she could tell something else was bothering him.

“That’s not what I mean. I hadn’t thought much about it either. You changing your name. I mean, if you want to be a Monroe, I understand. But no reason we can’t get married and you keep your name.”

She stood on her toes to kiss him. “You just want to make sure people know you’re married to an actual Matheson, don’t you?”

“Damn right.” He kissed her hard and pulled her against him almost roughly. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all. I thought you would.”

He exhaled slowly. “Connor keeping the name Bennett made me think a lot about it. I tried to brand the whole country with my name once. It didn’t work out so well. For me or them. Besides , I’m used to the person closest to me having a different last name.”

“I never really thought of getting married at all,” Charlie admitted. “Not recently at least.” He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. 

“Well how traditional of a ceremony do you want to have. We can just walk in or. . .” there was a hint of teasing in his voice and she realized he also sounded a little hopeful. “I figure Gene would like to walk you down the aisle. Even if the aisle is just from the door to the front of the room.”

She almost protested that if someone was going to walk her anywhere it should be Miles but she realized he was angling for something traditional it would be because he wanted Miles beside him. Her grandfather would be pleased, she decided. Even if he would privately question her taste in men. “For you? Miles and who else,” she asked and he shrugged. 

“Connor and Jeremy. I thought you could get your mom, Cynthia and Emily.” She was surprised he knew exactly what she meant and then realized he’d even been thinking about it. He chewed his lip, then signed. “Do you think maybe you could ask Marybeth. Because I think Aaron would like to be included too.”

She snorted and was about to agree when she smiled. “No. Aaron’s walked with me for a long time. If he’s anyone’s attendant, he should be mine.”

 

Charlie had thought they would just do the ceremony in the parlor at Gene’s house but apparently word had travelled fast and Rachel informed her that enough people had asked to attend they’d have to move it onto the lawn.

Cynthia wanted to see Charlie’s hair up and she let her and Rachel play with it for a bit before she shook it out. The styles they came up with made her look different, more sophisticated. But for this day she wanted to look like herself.

She slid into the green dress, wondering what the first Charlotte would have thought if she knew when she had picked the dress from whatever store, that it would be her granddaughter’s wedding dress.

Charlie stood in the hall as Gene and Miles both came to kiss her on the cheek and she clutched Miles for a long time. “You sure about this, Charlie?” he asked her and she felt her throat knot up but she nodded and there was no mistaking the relief in his eyes. “All right,” he sighed. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

There hadn’t been time to try to find if someone played any instrument and Charlie had decided there was no point in trying to pretend this was a normal wedding anyway so she’d had her attendants go outside at the same time and the same door as Bass and his groomsmen. She and Gene lingered in the hall while they heard people talking outside and eventually she nodded and he opened the front door.

There must have been more than twenty people standing on the lawn as she walked out. Emily and her family, Lila and hers, Julie and her brothers, Marybeth, Marion, a few other shopkeepers she’d traded with, some people she recognized as Gene’s patients, and a few other of the women who had been in the room with her that morning. 

Miles was standing next to Bass, Rachel on his other side, then Connor and Jeremy, then Aaron and Cynthia. The crowd parted and she walked between them, her eyes locking with Bass. He was also wearing the green shirt and tie that nearly matched her dress and she wondered if her grandparents had bought them together, to wear on purpose.

Miles looked a combination of nervous and relieved, Jeremy was biting his lip as if he were thinking something funny – Charlie was glad she didn’t know what it was – and Connor looked openly smug. Given the fact that he’d been the one to push them into making their arrangement formal, she supposed he had every right. Bass just looked scared.

Peter started as soon as she took Bass hand, skipping any traditional speeches about giving away as Gene kissed her and then blended back into the crowd of guests, no doubt headed for Marion. “We come together to witness the marriage of this man and this woman. In front of God and witnesses. Their family, their friends. A union of a family that was once one, was torn apart and is being united together again.” He chuckled. “I admit, I was shocked when I found out that James was really Sebastian Monroe. But what has been proved here in Willoughby is that Sebastian Monroe is no longer the enemy. So, do you, Sebastian, take Charlotte to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, during good times and bad. In peacetimes and in war?” Charlie hid a grin at his last improvisation, her hand tightening around Bass as he said “I do.”

Her own “I do” was a little softer than his, but only because she was trying to speak past the knot in her throat and then he was sliding a slender gold band onto her finger. It had belonged to her grandmother and then she was putting one of her grandfather’s rings on him. She’d been to a handful of weddings, enough to know the couple generally repeated a second set of vows but Bass had asked Peter to skip that part. He claimed it was because he didn’t trust himself to be able to get through them without crying but she secretly wondered if it wasn’t because he was afraid one or the other of them would choke at the word love. She wasn’t as terrified of the word as she had once been, but it still felt forced. It would come eventually, when the time felt right, which wasn’t now, with people watching. 

“Very well, you may kiss your bride.”

Bass looked almost shy, glancing at all the guests and bending down to give her a chaste peck on the lips but she heard Connor hoot, “Oh, come on,” and Bass’ grin flashed and Charlie felt him capture her mouth at the same time he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against them. Distantly she heard a catcall from Jeremy and a reflexive groan from Miles but she dismissed it all to kiss her husband. She shuddered, both at the feel of him against her and the thought of the word husband connected to Sebastian Monroe but neither were bad and she was sorry when he stepped away from her. She thought of that first time he’d kissed her in the parlor, before they’d gone to dinner and this time her tremble was what would have happened with them if the Patriots hadn’t been watching the house that night.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Peter announced. “I now present to you, Mr. Sebastian Monroe and Mrs. Charlotte Matheson.” They both turned and Rachel and Miles were the first to hug them, even though Charlie couldn’t tell who was hugging who until Rachel moved Bass aside a few feet and embraced him but she was also whispering something in his ear that made him grin and nod at the same time. “Rachel, I promise.” His grin went evil and he purred. “Mom.”

Rachel turned white, then greenish and she looked murderous for a moment but Charlie watched her force her facial muscles to relax and she was suddenly even smiling as she murmured, “touché” before her arms were around Charlie and they were back in a group hug with the four of them.

Connor was right behind them, hugging Bass and he stepped over to her and Jeremy took his place with Bass. Connor’s voice was soft and amused as he leaned into her. “Not sure what your mom already said to him and I figure Miles will add something. But you shouldn’t get off either. So this is your warning. Hurt my father. . . .” He didn’t finish the threat and his arms tightened around her. “And you still owe me a sibling.”

“I won’t,” she breathed back. “And yes, I do.” It wasn’t entirely true. They were more than likely going to hurt each other plenty of times; but the important part was that they both knew they were never leaving each other. She wondered for a moment which one of them was more sensitive about that before Aaron enveloped her in a bear hug that would have cracked her ribs if he’d have been just a little less careful.

After that she lost track of who hugged her when and finally Miles let out a piercing whistle as he hopped up on the porch rail. “Okay, folks. This is the part where we should all be heading out and getting fed and drunk and dancing and all that sort of wedding stuff. But the truth is we don’t have a lot of time to get the hell out of Dodge before someone shows up wanting to know exactly what’s happened here.”

There were a few chuckles from the crowd and Gene stepped through and everyone fell back as he walked over to Rachel and put an arm around her.

“You’re not coming with us, are you?” Rachel asked and Gene shook his head.

“I’d just slow you down. You don’t need that right now. Besides, someone has to go with Peter to President Carver with the information. Who better than me to tell him what’s really happened? And to keep an eye on what’s going on around here and keep you informed?“

Charlie walked to them and Gene’s arm went around her. “Take care of your mom, will you. Don’t let her get too wrapped up in her own head. ” He looked at Rachel and his smile was sad. “She sees what’s going on before the rest of us, so make sure you listen to her though.”

They all embraced and Charlie felt the tears at her eyes before Gene stepped away. “I wish your grandmother could have seen you. But that’s another one to lay at their feet and she might still be here if it weren’t for them.”

Marion was standing behind Gene and she looked a little scared when Rachel turned to her.

“I tried to get him to go with you,” the older woman said but Rachel nodded.

“I know. But he’s right. Peter on his own couldn’t put the same case to Carver that Dad will be able to. But you take care of him, understand.”

“Got it.” Rachel’s hand gripping Miles’ was white but her face, Charlie noted, was composed.

 

Someone had packed her clothes, Charlie found, when she went back up to her room to change and she carried the dress back down to the sewing room. Gene saw her with the dress on the hanger and gestured at it. “You can take it with you.”

She shook her head. “Not much room. I’d rather leave it here for now. Gives me a good reason to come back to visit.”

“You be sure to write,” he ordered and she nodded. “You’d better. Jeremy has given me an address in D.C. where I can send letters that you can get from a friend of his. You should have one when you get there so I want you to be writing to me when you’re on the road.”

She nodded again, stepping close as they embraced. “I love you, Grandpa” she whispered into his neck and she could tell he was crying too. He stepped away, wiping his eyes and nodded at her.

“Get along with you now. And take care of the husband of yours.”

She laughed and nodded and walked out the front door. Connor had the horses saddled and Charlie mounted her gelding. The mare they’d bought on their way back to Willoughby had packs on her, a leading rein going from her bridle to Jeremy saddle horn. Connor was already on a dun gelding he’d bought from one of the farmers. Charlie took one last look around the yard, a final glance up at the window of the room she and Bass shared and she clucked at her horse. Her view hazed with tears but she smiled at Gene as he embraced Rachel and Miles both.

She and Bass were the first ones to the rendezvous point near the road, the remains of a collapsed, half-burned shack littering the ground near an old cornfield. Aaron and Cynthia arrived next in a small farm cart that was loaded with firewood. Aaron caught her looking at it and shrugged. “Seemed like a safe cargo. If we were loaded with supplies, it would be obvious we were going on a long trip. But who’d go more than a day out of their way for just firewood?”

“We have a pack under it,” Cynthia added, “with some blankets and bread. Just in case we aren’t all able to meet up at night.”

Connor, Jeremy, Rachel and Miles rode in a few minutes later. Miles looked around the area uneasily, as if he didn’t want to be there, which made no sense to Charlie since he was the one who had picked the spot in the first place. Miles pulled a highway map and poked at a spot Charlie guessed was about a six hour ride away.

“Aaron, with that cart, you’re probably going to have to stay on the main roads. The rest of you, try to avoid them if you can help it. But I don’t want us to be too spread out, in case the other group runs into trouble. Fifteen minute intervals, no more. Rest stops here, here, here and here. He indicated spots on the map. Stay there until the next group arrives and then head out. If no one shows up, if it’s safe, try to go back and figure out what happened to them. In case a group is captured, try to let another group know what happened. And if you’re the last free group, go to ground. I know that will be tough. We all mean something to each other. But someone’s got to keep this thing going. If you absolutely have to, get all the way to D.C. and try to make contact with Carissa to go ahead with the plan and starting the resistance movement there alone. I know that sucks. But we’re at war here.”

Aaron headed out first, with Jeremy and Connor leaving about fifteen minutes afterward. Charlie waited until Miles nodded at them and she cued her gelding. It had apparently developed a friendship with Miles’ mare because the two horses started neighing at each other and it didn’t want to leave but it eventually headed off the road at her direction and after a few horse-lamentations, settled down. “That’s funny,” she commented. “He’s never done that before.”

“Well, you haven’t really separated it from Miles’ horse before. I wonder if it’s trying to tell you something.”

“I’ve been away from Miles before,” she sniped and he grinned across at her. “Maybe you’re just jealous because your horse doesn’t like Miles’ horse.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I am. Or maybe tomorrow your horse will miss Jeremy’s horse or Rachel’s or who knows. Horses can be fickle like that.”

“Are you saying I’m fickle.”

He shook his head, reaching out to take her hand. “No. But I do think you’d get upset if anything happened to any of us.”

“Damn right,” she agreed. “I just wish my grandfather was coming with us. I worry about what will happen to him if the Patriots come back and we’re gone.”

“Someone had to take the message to Carver. And Peter alone doesn’t know half of what they’ve done like Gene does.”

“And if someone there has been spying for them. Like he did.” Bass looked momentarily taken aback but then shook his head.

“Probably not likely. Someone would have noticed if too many people had been through there trying to suborn locals.”

“I hope you’re right.” She released the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding and moved her horse closer to his to hold his hand again. “So, do you feel any different?”

He grinned at her. “Now that I’m old and married? I was always old, so that’s just the same.” His gaze sobered and he leaned across their horses to kiss her. “And being with you. . .it’s still perfect like it always has been. What about for you?”

“Really strange. I never thought much about being married. Like with a dress and rings and a real wedding.” She glanced down at the ring on her finger. “But I’m glad we got to do it in Willoughby where people know who you are. I see what you mean about it not meaning anything if it was just a fake name. They knew who we were and what we’d been through. I never really understood the whole bridesmaids and groomsmen thing either. But it felt like it was about showing people who was important to us. I mean, we’re all here.”

“Our traveling road show. Still, Miles had a pretty good plan to split us up like he did. Smaller groups get noticed less but we’re close enough to back each other up if we need to.” 

 

Miles’ chosen stop for the night was the outskirts of a small town and he got a camp arranged where they roasted two ducks Charlie had shot when they’d passed a pond a few hours before. He and Rachel disappeared soon after dinner but were back about fifteen minutes later and Miles sighed. “There’s an inn, just past the crossroads. I want you two,” he gestured at Charlie and Bass. “to go rent a room there for a night. When you get up in the morning, buy as many groceries as you can easily fit on your horses and meet us back here to split it up.” He named the next day’s rest stops and evening halt locations, tracing the route, Cynthia adding comments since she’d traveled through the area less than a year before from visiting friends. Charlie waited until Miles was done before nodding in the direction of the town. “We don’t have to go. It’ll leave you short on your watch schedule.”

Miles snorted. “Charlie, for goodness sake, go enjoy your wedding night. It’s probably the last privacy you two will have until we get to D.C. And I think we can run a watch rotation with six.”

Bass grabbed her hand before she could comment further and half dragged to her horse which Jeremy was already saddling. This time it didn’t seem to care about leaving Miles’ horse and she wondered what had been going on with it that morning.

The inn was small and the front room packed with people drinking. The proprietor sounded a little annoyed they didn’t want dinner but he rented them the room, cheering up a little when he was able to overcharge them for whatever breakfast he’d be able to produce. He unlocked the door and seemed like he was about to start a conversation but Bass glared at him and he shrugged and left. Charlie started to walk for the door but Bass’ hand on her arm stopped her and she looked up to see him smiling at her.

“Can you put up with one last tradition?”

She shrugged and then squawked when he lifted her, twirling her into his arms so he was carrying her into the room. They were both laughing as he brought their lips together and suddenly he was kissing her. She felt his balance shift as he kicked the door shut behind them and then walked over to lay her across the bed. She got her fingers wrapped in his hair and managed to drag him back down beside her.

“Hey,” she whispered as he started to draw away and was rewarded by his arms coming around her ribs, nearly crushing her against him.

“Hi,” he whispered back, his right hand drifting down to her hip and the other coming up to cup her cheek. The hard ridge of his ring brushed gently against her skin and she moved her head just slightly so she could nibble the finger along the edge of the gold band and she heard him suck in a breath.

“Still think everything feels the same?” she whispered just before he wrapped his hand in her hair and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this latest chapter was almost 16,000 words (15,882 at last check but some may get edited out) and I hope it was worth the wait. Some of this was written months ago and other parts of it were joined into tonight. . .so if it feels forced there are probably parts that need edited. 
> 
> But it's 0102 my time (1am for those of you who don't know what 0102 means) and I have to be up at 0530 so I am not editing this nearly as much as I need to. But I want to get this chapter published BEFORE tonight. . .the last episode of Revolution. I am very disappointed in that but am grateful for the ride we've had so far.
> 
> And for me the ride is far from over. Airing or not, I still have this to finish and have every intention of doing so. But hey, I FINALLY got them out of Willoughby. It only took me some 25 chapters more than I intended. It might be a while before I get another chapter posted because I have the Neville family coming back into the story in the next chapter but I have to burn some two odd weeks of travel time and I don't want to "and two weeks later" it. So I have some transition to do before they meet up with Tom and Jason (that scene is already written and it's actually some of my favorite stuff that I've written so far)
> 
> A surprising amount of this chapter was written while listening to "Wrecking Ball." I'm not generally a Miley Cyrus fan but I heard it on the radio and it fit quite a bit of what was going on (thank goodness for YouTube. . .I can loop songs I would rather not buy and then not even watch the video because I have Word up instead but can still hear the music. But after we got past the emotional stuff, it was back to Muse's "Uprising." I think that song will feature heavily in my playlist. 
> 
> I was just checking what I have written that follows this and there is an additional 14,000 words but I'm missing large sections of the trip from where we leave off at the end of this chapter to them leaving in D.C., fights with the Patriots and the final showdown where they secure control of President Davis (though I do have the aftermath of that and the epilogue written). So I wouldn't be surprised if this ended up with 30-40 thousand more words (give or take 10-15 thousand). I definitely have the end written not. . .but I still have a long way to go before I get there.
> 
> Two final notes before I hit publish and release this (errors and all) for everyone to read:
> 
> 1) I am writing this in my Monroe Republic t-shirt (nbc.com). It's a brown t-shirt with the M (we all know the one: though the circle goes all the way around the M on this rather than stopping at the bottom) and "Monroe" underneath that. Unbelievably soft cotton. I'm a huge cheapskate but this shirt will be worth it in psychological value alone.
> 
> 2) Thanks so much to the readers who have stuck with this despite the errors, rambling, randomness and just general overall LENGTH. . .this has turned into a monster of epic proportions for me and I can't begin to appreciate those of you who have kept reading. And commenting (hint/hint). Hope everyone else keeps up their stories. I love reading other people's works too.
> 
> Here's hoping to a most excellent Revolution episode tonight. It will be much missed.


	38. Chapter 38

They skipped the inn breakfast after getting a good look at the gruel that the other guests were being served and headed out to hit whatever passed for a market in the small town. There were a few potatoes and some beets for sale and someone else had late corn but there was no bread or meat so they settled for what they could fit in gunnysacks they tied to their saddles.

Miles and Rachel were the only ones up when they arrived in the camp and Rachel and Bass started sorting the vegetables into different bundles to divide between the groups. Charlie walked over to where Miles was seated on a stump, staring at the map and he looked up to smile at her.

“Have a good night? Never mind,” he added hastily. “I don’t want to know.”

She dropped a kiss on the top of the head and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. His smile went crooked and he leaned against her for a moment, patting her arm. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Thank your mother. It was her idea.”

By the time they had the rest of the vegetables portioned out, everyone else had more-or-less gotten up. Miles pulled a map and waited for everyone to drift back in towards the fire. Charlie accepted the heel of bread and wedge of cheese Rachel handed her and seated herself on a fallen log, watching the flames and playing with her ring. She was all too aware that Bass and Miles were only a few feet behind her, clustered at the map and she forced herself not to look at them, even if every cell in her body seemed to be screaming at her to turn around. Rachel dropped onto the log next to her.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” Charlie asked, trying to sound confused but she had a pretty good idea Rachel already knew what she was thinking.

“Charlie, you got married yesterday. And regardless of whose idea it was, it’s still kind of obvious that it happened. And no,” she said as Charlie glanced at her left hand, “I don’t mean the ring.”

“What do you mean, then?”

Rachel snorted. “I loved Ben. I really did. But I was head over heels for Miles.” She understood that. She really had loved Jason. His security, his strength. But it was nothing to the torrent of feelings Bass brought out in her. “Even still, the day your Dad and I got married. . .was one of the happiest of my life. That feeling of really belonging to someone. Knowing it was forever.”

She felt like Rachel might as well have just dumped water on her. “Except we saw how that ended.” She felt her voice going flat.

“You’re not me. And Bass isn’t Ben. Now, if you’d have married Jason Neville, I’d have been worried. But you and Bass? It’s like he’s your Miles.”

“Mom, no offense. But you do know how twisted this conversation is getting, don’t you?”

Rachel acknowledged that with a vague nod. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’ll be fine.” Which assumed she was either not fine now. . .or she was expecting a crash. Rachel walked away and Charlie found herself spinning the gold band for a moment longer before she got up and went to re-adjust the cinch on her gelding. There was nothing wrong with it, but at least is would look less fidgety but Connor walked over from his own horse.

“How are you doing?”

“Everyone seems to be asking me that this morning. In a little bit, I’m going to start to wonder if I’m supposed to be upset about something?” He walked with her back to the fire and she sat back down again.

“That’s now what I meant.” He dropped to the ground, part of his back resting against her leg. “It’s just. . .well, I kind of pushed you guys into this and if either of you didn’t really want it, I’m going to feel like it’s my fault.”

She reached out to rest her fingers against his back, gently massaging the knotted muscles. “If things don’t work between us, it will be our fault. Not yours.” He half-turned his head to look at her and she saw his eyes were shiny. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I. . .I just got so used to not having anyone. It keeps feeling like this thing. . .that it’s too good to be real and I’m going to lose it again.”

She managed not to laugh but she looped her arm over his shoulder and leaned forward so her chin was resting on his head. She’d noticed Connor was like Bass in that he craved physical contact when he was unsure of himself; as if it reassured him that he was really wanted. “Not sure what about this family is too good to be true. . .I mean, look at us and count the monsters and demons. But we are strong, probably because of it. So I can’t promise everything will always be like this. We don’t know who fighting the Patriots might cost us. But we’re in it to the end.”

“And what if in that end I’m the only one left. . .not that it would be because I’m that good. . .but what if I’m that unlucky?”

“You’ll find a new family. Or go back to Willoughby. You’re Gene’s family now too. His great-grandson-in-law, actually.” He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t considered that before. “And there are plenty of people there who’d be willing to take you in if you needed family. Heck, you could probably have your own family inside a year if you smiled at Tracy Bentley.”

He glared at her but then shrugged. “She actually showed a lot of grit, up on the wall. We were on the same section and I thought she was going to be a problem but she did exactly what I told her to and she showed a lot of courage. . .but she’s still just sixteen, so no, not going there.”

“Well what about in ten more years. She’d be twenty-six and you’d be, what, thirty-seven?”

He nodded but then huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure she’s going to be married before she’s twenty.” He stood, flexing his shoulders. “You’re not going to be one of those moms who pressures their kids to get married all the time, are you?”

“That would be ironic, wouldn’t it?” she commented.

“Yeah. I think I’d rather just have you be one of those cool moms where I can bring friends home and you don’t say anything when we disappear after dinner.”

“Would these friends be professionals?” she teased and he blushed a little and shrugged.

“Even professionals have favorite clients.”

“Connor, you pay them to make them think you’re their favorite. Not really the same thing.” She thought about it for a moment, then added, “maybe you just bring them to dinner. I’m not having you get your siblings used to you parading women in and out of your room. Paid or otherwise. Not saying you have to get married to have a guest. . .but maybe be a little discreet about it.”

“Good point. I hadn’t thought about the kids.” He glanced at her, face reflecting his uncertainty. “But. . .I. . .I’d have a room? In your house? No matter if I stick closer to D.C. and just come to visit?”

She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. “Depending on how tight space is, you might have to share it with a sewing room, or a fletching table or something. But yeah, you’ll always have somewhere.”

“Okay, you two,” Bass said, his voice teasing. “Break it up already.” But he touched his hand to Connor’s shoulder as he walked over and Charlie stood, feeling his arm around her as well and she relaxed back against him.

“Hey,” Jeremy crowed, “Group hug.” She felt herself being smashed between them all as he joined them. It should have been overwhelming but somehow she just felt comfortable. “Miles, come on, man.”

She managed to turn her head enough to see her uncle staring at them all like they were crazy, taking a small step back. “Um. No.”

Jeremy laughed, stepping away as Bass shoved at him. “Yeah, guess you’d be a spoil sport, wouldn’t you. Oh come on, we’re on a road trip. If we can’t have the junk food and radio cranked up, we can at least do the group hugs.”

“Group hugs were never part of any road trip I ever took,” Miles said, taking another step back when Jeremy turned towards him. “And I’ll bet they weren’t part of yours either.”

Jeremy shrugged, his grin going crooked. “Okay, totally busted. But hey, I’m in a great mood this morning for some reason. Probably because I’m not nearly as sore from that damn horse as I thought I would be. I’ve always hated riding. Thought I was going to have to try to fight Aaron for a seat on the cart.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be depressed because you’re not getting laid on a regular basis anymore?” Rachel asked, her voice just edging into irritation but there was a slight smile on her face.

“Considering the whole not-saddle-sore issue revolves around my groin as much as getting-laid does, I think you can see the parallels to my mood.”

Charlie actually started to laugh at the dual expressions of horror on Miles and Bass’ faces and even Rachel put a hand over her mouth.

“Alright,” Bass said firmly. “I’m done with this conversation. Miles, if hearing about Charlie and I are even half as bad as listening to him talk, I’m beginning to think I owe you an apology.” The two of them walked off, the map between them again and Charlie watched Jeremy’s eyes follow them before he looked at her, his face a mixture of relief and amusement.

“Sorry about that,” he commented softly and Connor tilted his head.

“So that was an act? Why?”

Jeremy wrapped his arms around both their shoulders and pulled them in close. “Not really an act. That’s the thing. Acting is dangerous because people can usually tell when you’re being fake. But yeah, sometimes not filtering is as good as an act. It throws them off. And in this case, it’s Bass starting to get too damn introspective and start worrying about losing this family. He always gets freaked when things are going well.” He shrugged. “Besides, I do feel pretty good. . .and I wanted to see Miles’ face when I suggested a group hug.” He wandered off, whistling to himself and Charlie was pretty sure it was the same song he’d made Miles and Bass sing with him in Willoughby.

Connor shook his head. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried about him.”

“Maybe a little of both,” Charlie agreed as Aaron and Cynthia finished folding their blankets and tucking the pack under the seat in their wagon.

 

Over the next week, Charlie realized she had more time alone with Bass than she ever had, even when they were sharing a room, with no distractions of daily housekeeping. The two of them talked nearly constantly about their childhoods and growing up. She loved his stories about he and Miles and they even both cried together talking about her brother and his sister, horses moved close enough to grip each others hands. A few times they even traded with Aaron and Cynthia – riding on the cart so the other two could get used to riding long distances. While she thought riding was more comfortable than the hard seat, she did enjoy getting to have their sides pressed together. 

They had started at about thirty miles a day and Miles had bumped it up to thirty-five after the first few days but said he didn’t want to press to much harder because he was trying to keep the horses fresh in case they ever needed to run. But even if the ten hours a day of riding were relatively easy, their camps offered a complete lack of privacy. Bass seemed to be dealing with it better, which only made her more irritated. It was sometimes between Saturday night and Sunday morning when she woke in the middle of the night, feeling him wrapped around her that she felt like her skin was going to split around her nerves. She could see Connor seated by the fire but his back was to them and she knew even if he did turn around, he’d be polite enough to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. Rachel and Miles were about ten feet away but Aaron, Cynthia and Jeremy were all on the other side of the fire.

She slid her hand down between them, moving his shirt so she could brush the muscles of his abs and then dipped into his waistband. He hardened against her fingers and she felt him burrow his head against the back of her neck but then she felt him partially sit up and he kissed the back of her neck at the same time he grabbed her hand and pulled it back up. She started to move but his arms came around her, pinning her back to his chest and he settled back against her, whispering, “not now” into her ear. She could tell he was mostly back asleep again and she wanted to either scream or punch him in the shoulder but she knew neither of those would solve anything or even make her feel better so she pulled away from him to roll onto her stomach. It didn’t help that she heard him laugh, just a single snort. She lay back, chewing on her lip in irritation until she fell asleep, mid-way through Jeremy’s watch.

When she woke up the next morning the bed beside her was empty and Bass was near the fire, talking in low tones to Aaron and Rachel. She sat up, irritated at both him and herself and his smile in her direction was tentative. She returned it, even if she didn’t feel like it but he came over to immediately and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Sorry,” he whispered, “about last night. I probably should have explained. . . I was pretty sure your mother was awake. And I just asked her about her night and she said she was in and out of sleep the whole time.”

“Fair enough.” It helped ease the sting but it didn’t calm the fact that she was used to sex both before she went to sleep and when she first woke up – though she’d usually sleep for another hour or so after they were finished – and it had been five days. Even when they had been fighting when they had gone to Mexico, that had only lasted four days.

“Hey,” Miles said, coming up, his face serious. “I checked the map and I’m pretty sure we’re not that far from what used to be Henderson. I know the Patriots had a few people there at one point and I’d like to see if we can get some intel from it. “You two up for a trip to town?”

“Sure,” Charlie said, wincing at the faint snark she heard in her voice. Miles looked at her strangely but he shook his head at Aaron. 

“Just the three of us, I think. Don’t want to show our numbers. The rest of you go ahead and move out. Rachel, go with Jeremy and Connor. Our stop tonight is a few miles east of Carthage in case we don’t catch up with you right away.”

It took them less than an hour to ride into Henderson, which reminded her a little bit of Willoughby. The gates were open and no one even glanced at them as they rode into the center of town. It didn’t appear to be any form of market day so there weren’t many people around. A few shopkeepers glanced at them but then seemed to decide they weren’t a threat and Charlie wondered if it was because the presence of a woman made Bass and Miles seem like some form of a legitimate family.

They rode through the streets until Miles edged his horse over to a hitching post and dismounted, angling his head at the two-story clapboard building. There were no signs on it but Charlie glared at him. “Seriously, was this just an excuse to get a drink?”

“I have whiskey in my bag, thanks,” he retorted. “But it’s a good place to get some information. Hey, Bass, hand me your ring, would you?” Both Charlie and Bass turned at the same time to stare at him and he sighed. “Because in case any word HAS come out of Willoughby, anyone looking for the Mathesons and Monroe would be looking for Charlie Matheson married to Bass Monroe. We’re cousins and Charlie’s my wife.”

“Well my name is Sarah,” Charlie countered. “Not Frannie.” She’d used that name several times, both with Tom Neville and the O’Halloran patriarch she’d been supposed to kill for Drexel. She wondered if it was good or bad that she couldn’t remember his first name, though she knew his daughter’s name was Becca.

“Fine, we’ll be Mark and Sarah Post. Bass?”

“John Post. I’m older.” She relaxed just a tiny bit at the way Bass hesitated before handing over his ring. She wasn’t sure why the age comment irritated Miles and then she realized she wasn’t sure which one of them really was older because she didn’t know either of their birthdays.

“Which one of you is older,” she asked and was surprised at the look they both gave her. “What?” She checked to make sure she had her gelding fastened to the post securely and then loosened her cinch just enough for her horse to relax but not so much that if they had to leave in a hurry she’d have to tighten it down again. 

“Well,” Miles finally said, “We might as well tell her. She’d be able to get it out of Rachel anyway. He is. His birthday is February twentieth. Mine isn’t March fourteenth.”

She knew the surprise showed on her face that Bass was actually a few week older until she realized it was the beginning of March. “Seriously? That was. . .what, ten days ago? Neither of you said anything?”

“Thirteen days,” Miles corrected. “It’s March third.”

“Which means your birthday will be in eleven more days.”

“We decided it was best not to dwell on either of them,” Bass explained. “Actually, after what happened between us, birthdays are kind of a sore subject. . .the rebel bombing that put us both over the edge was his birthday.”

“You could have told me,” Charlie protested, looking around to make sure no one was watching them.

“It was the night Carissa told us about the fake Monroe. I honestly didn’t even know what day it was until Miles stopped in that night to make sure I was okay and he reminded me. With everything going on, I really didn’t want to bring it up.” She recognized the tone in his voice and the warning to drop it and she inhaled slowly. She would concede it was a rotten time and place so she turned to walk into the bar and heard them following her. But, she decided, if he thought it was the end of it, he was mistaken. It wasn’t the fact he’d not told her about his birthday as much as if they were going to be married, there were still a few things they needed to let each other know about.

The inside of the bar was dimly lit and she felt a shudder as she realized it was set up the same as Pottsboro, with the pool tables and the bar and suddenly Bass was close behind her, his hand brushing against her back even as Miles was walking them over to the bar. She turned to him, nodding to let him know she was alright and the look he gave her banished the demons at the same time she smiled as she watched him abort a reach for her hand and he glared at his finger where the ring was missing.

It was all over in a second as they took their seats, her between he and Miles, but she suddenly felt guilty about being upset about him not mentioning his birthday. They did need to talk, true. But in the ways that most mattered, they could still communicate, no matter what was going on around them.

Miles was ordering three whiskeys and she downed hers when the bartender sloshed it into her shot glass. She wasn’t sure how clean it was but since the alcohol was surprisingly potent, she decided she didn’t need to worry about germs.

“So,” Miles asked and even she was surprised how casual his voice sounded. “My wife and I are headed east trying to get a little further from the Plains Nations. Too many damn warlords coming out of there recently, any suggestions?”

The bartender snorted. “Yeah. Don’t go East. You hear Texas has declared those Patriot bastards a hostile force?”

Charlie sucked in her breath at the same Miles and Bass did but Miles shook his head. “No. Kind of makes me want to get out of the area even more. . .if they’re coming west to try to take Texas.”

The bartender shrugged. He was an older man with tattoos on his forearms that barely looked faded but the artwork was elaborate enough it had to have been pre-blackout. “Not sure about that. I figure if they pass through here they’ll not even stop on their way to Austin. But if you head Huston or Galveston way, that shouldn’t be too bad.” He titled his head to study them. “You both former military?”

“Yeah,” Bass said. “We were Third ID, 188th Infantry out of Ft. Stewart. Thinking maybe head back that way, see if we have any friends still in the area. Not too far from the coast and all that.

“Army?” At Miles nod, the guy shrugged. “I was Navy myself. I’d avoid the area. Too damn close to fucking Atlanta and all the refugee camps mean the area isn’t safe. And a lot of the Patriots there too, running those damn camps. If you heard the stories about the camps, you wouldn’t want to go there.”

“What sort of stories?” Charlie asked, trying to sound nervous.

“A couple hundred thousand people who fled the fallout from Atlanta? What do you think they’re like. It’s like the cities used to be. Crowded and diseased and people dying because of lack of food and water. We got on just fine for fifteen years and then these bastards show back up and all the sudden people are waiting on the government to do something. Guess what, get off your ass and figure it out like we did back when. We don’t need those cock-suckers coming in and making us dependent on them. Now, not saying we don’t need something. But not that fuck-tardery.”

“What about them trying to help people?” Miles asked. “After all, with Monroe and Foster. . .” he trailed off and the bartender snorted.

“That’s probably a line of B.S. Not sure who dropped the bombs but Monroe and Foster were crazy but not stupid. Besides, those cock-suckers were a little too quick to say they had proof. But if the places were bombed, how the hell did they get proof?”

Charlie could feel the way Bass was vibrating beside her, his muscles trembling minutely and she could tell he was fighting back tears so she leaned back casually in her chair, making sure to stretch a little so her cleavage showed more. The bartender looked at it appreciatively but then glanced over at Miles as if remembering he might mind. “What, you think those Patriots did it?” she asked and he shrugged, topping off their drinks. Bass downed his in a single swallow.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. It happened. Fuck whoever did it but nothing can bring Atlanta back. Or Philly. Used to have an uncle there. Not sure if he was even still alive when the bomb hit. Sometimes wanted to go up and check but never wanted to get too tangled up with the Militia. . .though you’re probably too young to remember the monsters coming down out of the East. Texas and Monroe were never friends but he sure cleaned it up. Didn’t think too much of the man. . .but he was one of the first to set things in order. Not even sure if Carver would have been able to hold Texas together if Monroe hadn’t given Georgia an enemy to focus and hold back the war clans from the far east. Sure, he went crazy. . .but you don’t do what he did without a price.” The bartender looked around, dropping his voice. “Not sure the rumors are true, but he and Matheson might still be alive. Heard Matheson’s sister-in-law might have been hiding them down in Willoughby. Patriots hit the town a few months back with a war clan to soften them up and then tried to nail them again but Matheson drove them out both times – that part’s true. But Monroe might have been with him.”

“You believe that?” Miles asked and the barkeeper shrugged.

“Don’t know. My job’s to pass on the rumors and let folks make up their own minds. “About the only good thing about Savannah is they’ve got a working train runs out of there, headed further East. But that’s where they’re pretty damn thick up there. Really, anything out here’s got to be better than going back on the government dole and starting to death. We follow those Patriots again and the whole country turns into the superdome again. You two remember that?”

Bass and Miles both nodded and Charlie decided to ask later. The door opened and a woman came in, a basket over her arm of what looked like some kind of leeks. She was a few years older than Charlie but not many and she greeted the bartender with a kiss on the cheek. “Jake, do we have any of that bacon left? I thought I’d make up a pot of leek soup. . .oh, sorry, didn’t realize you had customers.”

Miles rose, nodding. “Ma’am. That’s okay. We just stopped in for a drink and for some information about where’s the safest place right now.”

The woman snorted. Her hair was a light gold but fell straight down her back and her blue dress was knee-length but she wore a pair of leggings with it. “Nowhere is safe these days. Where are you headed?”

“We were thinking east,” Bass said. “But after hearing what your man had to tell us, we’re thinking again.”

“Good call. Had a rider through here about half-hour ago carrying word to Austin the Patriots are setting up in Shreveport. Not sure how Carver will respond to that.” She slipped her arm about the barkeepers waist. “Billy Johnson was the rider and he stopped to change horses and warn his mother. It’s not a secret apparently. Just not sure what will happen.”

Charlie watched his arm go around hers and he nodded as his jaw stiffened. “Whatever it takes, Anna. We’re not running again. We promised each other that. I’m done with cocksuckers chasing me out of my home. Whether it’s fucking war clans or real U.S. government. This is my home.”

The woman nodded. “I know. You all are welcome to stay for lunch. Soup won’t be ready till dinner but I make good sandwiches. And we have a few rooms for rent.”

“No,” Miles sighed, sounding regretful. “We’d best be heading on. Got some distance to put between us and them. . .you see, we’re not lucky to have a home. Yet.”

The woman looked sympathetic but nodded. “Well, when you find it, you fight to keep it. Good luck with your search.”

Miles put a few diamonds on the bar and the barkeeper accepted them with a nod as he took the backet from his wife and Bass led them both back into the street.

“Well,” Miles said softly as they unhitched the horses. “What do you think of that.”

Bass’ jaw was tight and Charlie heard the strain in his voice. “I really don’t want to talk about it yet. Really, Miles, please?” He glanced over at her and she could see the request in his eyes and she nodded.

They were about two Miles out of town when Bass, who had been riding a little ahead of Miles, reined in his horse so they were riding alongside each other. He held out his hand, palm up, and Miles shifted his reins to his left hand so he could pull the ring off and drop it back into Bass’ hand.

Bass put it back on and Charlie could see the look on his face was more determined. “What was right,” he said finally and Charlie had a pretty good idea who he meant but she kept silent. “That woman. Anna. When you find home, you fight for it. And it’s this whole country.”

“So we’re headed to Shreveport? Or I heard him mention a train out of Savannah. Do we skip Shreveport and go there to cut our travel time to D.C.?” Charlie asked and Miles nodded.

“Well, Shreveport’s pretty much directly in line between us and Savannah. So maybe we do both.”

 

Jeremy was sitting on a log by the side of the road about four miles east of Carthage and he guided them to a campsite nearly a mile into the treeline. “Figured it would be good to get away from the road,” he explained and Charlie nodded absently, thinking of the probably thirty people they’d passed going the opposite direction. Part of her was sorry everyone was so stirred up but since it meant people were actually worried about the Patriots and trying to get away from them, it was heartening. She wondered if anywhere other than Texas had reacted yet or even how much of the former Georgia Federation and Monroe Republic were even able to react to anything.

Miles filled everyone in as they ate and he, Bass and Jeremy picked Keithville, Louisiana as being the next night stop. It would be nearly forty-miles – further than they had covered yet but it would put them only fifteen miles from Shreveport and would give them extra time to scout the area.

“We’re going to have to ditch the cart,” Miles said, tilting his head in apology at Aaron and Cynthia. “We may need to move fast.”

Aaron sighed. “Figured. Well, at least we’ve been in training for it. We can leave it here in the morning.”

Miles shook his head. “Tomorrow’s the forty mile push so go ahead and keep it till we get to Keithville. Might as well try selling it there and then the next day you’ll have a short ride.” Aaron looked a little more cheerful 

“With or without the wood?” Cynthia asked. “Because we can drop that here.”

“Might as well just leave it in. Scrub like that doesn’t add too much weight,” Jeremy said. “And maybe someone will throw in some extra for it. If not, just tell them you’re selling it because you just ran into your brother who you hadn’t seen since the blackout and you’re joining him. The whole ploy with the wood was that everyone assumes you’re local since who would travel so far with that sort of cargo.” They’d been using it as firewood on their stops and adding more from each location so the scrub really was from the area which lent authenticity to the story.

They settled in for the evening and it wasn’t she was getting her blanket laid near the fire that Miles walked over and grabbed it from her. “You,” he said, and she could hear the humor in his tone, “are not starting off here. Or do you think I wanted Jeremy to pick us so remote a site on purpose?”

“What are you talking about?”

Miles snorted. “Charlie, don’t be dense. You’re practically radiating sexual frustration. And if I don’t want to hear about it, what makes you think I want to see it either?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and he leaned over to laugh near her ear.

“No, you’re not. And if you think I’m the only one to notice, you’re wrong.”

She felt the tears start to prick at her eyes, which only infuriated her. “In case you didn’t notice, Bass and I aren’t the only couple here. I don’t notice you and Mom acting that way. Or Aaron and Cynthia.”

“Aaron and Cynthia have snuck off twice since we’ve left Willoughby. I know because I was on watch both times and told them it was okay.” Charlie felt her jaw drop and she felt bad when she turned to glare at Bass’ back, even though he was talking and didn’t even seem to be aware of her. “As for Rachel and I. . .well, we’ve managed to make due. But we’re also not twenty-two and just married.”

“It all keeps coming back to the fact I’m just so damn young, doesn’t it?” She felt bad for snapping and Miles grin went from amused to sympathetic.

“Not really. You started yet?” She felt herself turn red when she realized what he meant and this time the tears choking actually spilled out of her eyes and his arms were around her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. Charlie, you don’t have to do this to yourself.”

“No,” she said, her face muffled in his shoulder so she hoped she didn’t sound like she was crying. “I was hoping I’d stopped again.”

“Probably not. . .it was already going before you left Willoughby. We’ve been taking it pretty easy and you’re used to travel so you might not get that lucky again.”

“Gross,” she snapped. “Riding and . . .I don’t want to even think about it.”

“It’s late,” Miles commented and she felt her face flame again. “Well it’s not like I could miss the last one and that was nearly six weeks ago. Right before we left for Mexico.”

She lifted her head and glanced over at Connor. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Let’s say Jeremy filled Connor in on the details one day. When we first met him, I never thought the boy could be bribed with the offer of a sibling and now I swear the boy is keeping a calendar about your fertility.” She gave a watery laugh and wiped her eyes. “Well, and I do share a bed with your mother. The topic comes up. Rachel is worried about the timing but she’s also super excited about the prospect of eventually having grandchildren. Well, baby ones.” "I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant," she sighed and he nodded. "Gene said you were going to be really irregular for a while and given your mood swings the last few days, I think you're right. Damn, I'm glad you didn't PMS while we were with the rebels." But his arm tightened around her to take the sting from the comment and he jerked his head over to where Rachel had taken a seat next to Connor and the two of them were bantering over something. “So do me a favor and go defuse you and Bass both. After today, what he heard, he’s going to be a mess.”

Charlie wiped at her eyes, grateful her fingers came away dry. She glanced around the clearing and didn’t see Bass and was just starting to turn back to Miles when he walked back into view. He and Miles exchanged glances and he started to walk towards them. “Any chance you already talked to him about this?” Charlie asked dryly and he grinned at her.

“This morning. But you know me, no point not covering both sides.” His hand reach up to feather her hair before he wandered away towards Rachel and Connor. Jeremy, Aaron and Cynthia were suddenly enthralled in their conversation and Charlie wondered how Miles had managed to mention it to everyone already but she decided she didn’t care anymore. Bass’ blankets, she noticed, were missing.

“Hi,” she said as he walked up to her and she decided she didn’t care if the entire family was watching them, she reached out and wrapped one of her hands around the back of his neck and the other around his left bicep. He closed the distance between them and she nearly felt breathless as his tongue slid against hers. They’d kissed a few times since their wedding night but always holding back because they both knew it could go no farther. 

They were in plain sight of everyone but no one even turned to look at them and Bass pulled back to whisper, “Hi,” into her hair and she dropped her hand into his and he led her away from the camp.

His blankets were only a few hundred yards away, down in a hollow around a fallen log. They were out of sight and possible earshot if they were both quiet. He sat down on the log and she pulled her shirt off. “We don’t have to rush,” he laughed as she started on her pants and she glared at him.

“No, we don’t have to rush next round. This one, I’m not waiting in case someone decides we’re needed after all. . .in fact, Miles didn’t say what watch shift I had.”

“We have the night off. “ She started to speak and he shook his head. “I’ve covered for him already for this week and she felt her mouth fall open.

“Wait. . .if he and Mom and Aaron and Cynthia have been managing it, why haven’t we?”

“I. . .I was trying to focus. Miles pointed out that it wasn’t working. And he was right. The fact alone he was willing to talk about our sex life was enough to make me realize he had a point. But,” he added hastily, “Rachel really was awake last night. I wasn’t lying about that. Before that, I didn’t realize how much it was bothering you, though I should have.”

“We really,” she said, trying to sound snappish but she couldn’t stop the welling laughter, “need to start talking to each other more. But not now,” she added just before he pulled her against him, his mouth claiming her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. . .this chapter was kicking my butt. The first few paragraphs were written. . .and the last 9,400 words were written (yes, that is correct: nine-thousand-four-hundred). . .but I could not get them to join. And every time I tried, all I ended up doing was staring at it frustration.
> 
> But thanks to everyone who has been commending and asking for it, tonight I sat down and put in about four hours of writing/research (i.e., timelining out their travels up to Shreveport and beyond to Savannah. Yes, they get to Savannah eventually. No, I don't have that written yet). 
> 
> Since this chapter is only 6,400 words (short compared to my last few, I know), obviously I did not manage to connect the beginning of the chapter to what I thought was the end of the chapter. And while I was originally determined to bull through and make one mega-chapter, I realized I really needed to just get something posted because I've promised an update for a while (and besides, Redbanker left a comment today asking for it. . .and I'm a sucker for comments. . .so yes, that comment directly influenced my posting today rather than holding off for a few more days).
> 
> A few notes about the Miles/Bass birthday timelines. I originally wanted them to have their birthday on the same day and that be a total surprise to Charlie (because it's something they'd always hidden from everyone). So I looked at Billy Birk and David Lyons' birth dates (obviously not the years, given the fact there is a decade between them) and February 20 was the right in the middle of them. So I looked at what had happened on that date and realized that was him melting down when he found out about the fake Monroe so I really liked that. But then I started thinking of the Miles/Bass conversation in 1x20 where they were comparing birthdays and it was "do you remember your___" and "what about your ___" which ruled out the same day. Well, I went back to watch that scene and we found out Miles' 21st was during spring break in Ft. Lauderdale, which would be about 2003 according to my timeline. Well, all I could find were dates of Florida State University spring break for 2003 (10-14 March). So I picked March 14. Which would mean Miles was a year older than Bass, Bass was a few weeks older than Miles (I had always thought it would be the other way) or I had to pick a new date for Bass (and I didn't want to do that). So I went to re-watch the scene. And Bass starts reminiscing about Miles' 21st birthday. . .which meant Bass was there. Which implies he was also 21 (sure, maybe they snuck him alcohol or the club didn't serve it so under-21 could go in) at the time. Thus, I am running with the theory Miles is actually a few weeks younger than Bass. I was trying to research Ft. Lauderdale strip club laws about patrons under 21 but I was just coming across general sites or sites I really didn't want to enter so I eventually decided there was only so much I was willing to do in the name of research and I'm made a good try.
> 
> I have a pretty good idea how I'm going to tie this to the end of the chapter -- which is now the end of the next chapter. . .unless it runs longer than I though and my already-written scene turns into chapter 40. Hopefully I am able to get it up pretty soon but work is being unusually busy so it may be a bit (or maybe not, depending on the next few days).
> 
> And the usual disclaimer, I probably need to do another edit-pass for typos so sorry if they are too bad. I'll try to clean it up soon.
> 
> On another note, I'm sorry we're not going to get more Revolution on TV. I think season three could have been fantastic but I think they left us in an open-but-not-bad please to end season two.


	39. Chapter 39

The air was damp with a slight chill, the air barely light with the first gray of dawn when Charlie woke but she snuggled her bare back closer to Bass' chest and relished the skin-to-skin heat she'd been missing for the last few days. She glanced sideways at him and smiled slightly when he pushed his face deeper into her shoulder. She constantly marveled about the fact she was able to sleep through the night and his movement didn't disturb her but the opposite was true that her waking before he did rarely caused any reaction unless she tried to get up.

She could smell a faint tang of smoke which meant someone was up in the main campsite and she grabbed her shirt that she'd used as a pillow and pulled it over her head.. She was trying to decide if she wanted to try to get her pants on under the blankets or just stand up when she felt Bass move against her, his lips already working on her ear and she turned, trying to see if he was even really awake or not. His ability to seduce her into staying in bed longer was sometimes even more successful when he wasn't really conscious because her sensible arguments were useless against the instinctual part of him that just wanted to cuddle. And by the time he'd woken up enough to even try rationality, she usually didn't want to get up so much anymore.

She turned her head enough to see the blue of his eyes and she smiled, working a hand between them and pressing at his chest. His look was a mixture of frustration and disappointment which made her almost laugh. She worked her head around so she was against his ear and murmured, "Hey, it wasn't my idea to avoid all contact since we got married."

"So it was a terrible idea. Haven't I apologized enough?" She paused like she was considering it but he'd worked a hand between her thighs and she knew there was no hope of even continuing the argument, even if she'd wanted to. "Or," he purred, "do I need to apologize more?"

"Uh-huh," she managed to blurt. "That one." She was in the process of going completely limp when something smacked the ground next to her head and Bass was out of the blankets, sword in hand, before she even had time to realize it was flat piece of bark.

"Okay, you two," she heard Miles call from the other side of the log. "I hate to do this. . .but we have a really long ride today and I need both of you to come eat breakfast so we can get the fire out."

"Miles," Bass yelled, "you nearly gave me a heart attack." Charlie took a moment to admire his completely naked temper before she grabbed her pants and shimmied into them with a sigh of regret. She stood and walked around the root side of the tree to find Miles standing a few feet away from it.

"Hey, I've tried to wake you enough times to know -- unless your adrenaline kicks in -- you'll take about half-hour to get up."

"I was up," he snapped and Miles looked at her in confusion for a moment before he grimaced in disgust.

"Well all the more reason I'm glad I threw something at you instead of coming to look. Besides, we don't have time for Charlie to take another nap either. Come on, if we get close enough to Shreveport that we get there early tomorrow then we'll have to get rooms so we're not just wandering around on the street.

Bass came over the log wearing just his pants and Charlie tried not to sigh again. Rooms, she decided, would be nice. But watching him stalk towards the fire, boots, socks and shirt in one hand and sword in the other, she decided she really didn't care about four walls and a bed as much as just being with him.

Miles was watching her, she realized, and she turned to raise an eyebrow at him. "What?" she asked and he shook his head.

"Just thinking that. . .shit."

They both heard the mix of Rachel and Aaron's voice raised in protest and above it all, Bass tones howling, "How on earth is this my fault?"

They broke into a quick jog and burst through the brush to the fire in time to see Jeremy dusting off a loaf of bread and Connor using a stick to hook a pot that fallen from one of the rocks of the fire-ring into the flames. Jeremy was laughing, which was no surprise, but Aaron had his arm around a stunned looking Cynthia.

"You just need to watch where you're going," Aaron snapped. "Cynthia, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the teacher protested. "Aaron, it was as much my fault because I turned around too fast and I ran into him as much as he ran into me."

"Yeah, well, he still nearly knocked you into the fire."  
"Hope you guys didn't really want tea this morning," Connor commented as he got the pot back out, the flames steaming from where half of them had gone out and Rachel took the loaf of bread.

"I told you, it was my fault." There was an uncommon edge to Cynthia's voice and Aaron sighed.

"Probably. But he's much easier to blame." That won a smile from Cynthia and Aaron leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm going to go get the horses hitched to the cart."

"I'll help," Connor volunteered and Rachel turned to Bass as the two men walked towards the horse lines.

"Do you want breakfast half-naked, Bass?" There was also an edge to Rachel's voice that surprised Charlie, "Or maybe you plan on getting clothes on?"

"Half-naked. As in I could have done a lot worse. I might have just come over in what I was wearing when Miles interrupted. But if you'd give me a minute with my pack, I was kind of thinking clean socks and shirt might be nice. Not that they're really clean. . .but at least they've had a day to air out."

Jeremy was laughing over something silently and Cynthia walked over and slapped him in the back of the head. It wasn't hard but it was enough to make him start laughing out loud and Cynthia started to blush. Bass had stalked off with his pack and Miles was looking between Jeremy, Rachel and Cynthia like they were all crazy. Charlie was inclined to agree with him but then Cynthia turned her, looking guilty. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure," Charlie said, walking away from the fire ring. Rachel handed her a hunk of bread and a steaming mug as she passed and Miles started pouring water over the fire.

"Here," Rachel said. "Fortunately I had already made this for you and was holding it when Bass knocked Cynthia against the pot."

By the scent, it was her thistle tea and Charlie tried not to grimace. "Thanks." She accepted both the mug and the bread and headed away from the fire. Jeremy was following them, Charlie realized and she turned to glare at him but Cynthia sighed.

"He might as well come. . .he figured it out, even if no one else did."

"Figured what out?" Charlie asked and Cynthia blushed harder, looking around to make sure they were far enough away no one else could hear them.

"Bass didn't actually run into me. I did all that myself."

Charlie shook her head, still confused and Cynthia sighed. "I love Aaron. I really do. But. . .well, I turned around and I wasn't expecting Bass to be there, especially without a shirt. It. . .it was startling." Comprehension dawned even as Jeremy started laughing again. She remembered her own first sight of Monroe shirtless in the fight tent in New Vegas. Even as much as she had hated him and had planned to kill him, it had been easy to appreciate the way he had looked. For Cynthia -- who had always admired James -- it was easy to see how her first sight of him minus shirt had been enough to cause her lose her balance. "I just really didn't want Aaron to know about it because. . .well, like I said, I love Aaron and I have no interest in Bass."

"But it's still kind of hard to look away," Charlie commented and Cynthia nodded.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Charlie told her, reaching out to pat the teacher on the shoulder. "Remember, I once wanted to kill him. You see where we are now. I can understand that he's a little startling sometimes."

"Well now I at least know what to expect," Cynthia commented wryly. "It was just so sudden and he was really close and I stepped back. He actually kept me from falling into the fire completely but then everyone thought he'd ran into me and I felt bad but I didn't want to say anything and. . . ." she trailed off as Charlie felt her lips curve. She glanced over at Jeremy and the laughter welled up when she wasn't expecting it. Cynthia glared at them both but Charlie could see the smile in the corners of her mouth.

"The term," Jeremy finally said, "is 'eye-candy' and I'm sorry to say Sebastian Monroe is the epitome of the description." Cynthia huffed out a breath and didn't quite nod but Charlie was pretty sure her head-bob was in agreement.

Miles walked up to them, looking cranky. "What the hell was all that about?" he snapped

Jeremy waved vaguely. "You really don't want to know. So, what's the plan?"

Miles pulled an old map and Charlie bent forward. "We're here. A little east of Henderson. I want to push through Carthage and cross the old Louisiana border here. If we keep going east and then cut up into Keithville -- assuming there is still a town there -- we'll be about fifteen miles from Shreveport. But it's about sixty miles and we've only done about forty the last few days. So we'll have to push the horses and it's going to be a long day."

"In which case," Cynthia said, her voice a little wry, "I'd better get my ass on the cart." She touched Charlie's arm on the way by and the two smiled at each other. Miles shook his head.

"Same for me then," Charlie commented and Miles looked at her.

"You seem like you're doing better than yesterday but are you sure you're okay?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I really think I am."

 

By early afternoon, Charlie had changed her mind. They'd been moving for nearly seven hours on Highway 79 and were near the cutoff road that would take them to Keithville. Miles had told them the town of Carthage would be the half-way mark and she was pretty sure they'd passed it about an hour back. It had looked like a big town on the pre-blackout map but it didn't seem to be inhabited any longer.

She'd thought it was sweat and saddle cramps but she swung off her horse near a patch of brush and the unmistakable traces of blood staining her underwear confirmed what she'd been suspecting for the last few miles. She wrinkled her nose, irritated but glad she wasn't having nearly the same knifing cramps she'd had the last time.

"Charlie, you nearly done?" Bass snapped. "Come on. We don't want to get everyone too bunched up."

"Give me a minute." She stood, not bothering to re-fasten her pants, letting them slide low on her hips as she rummaged through the pack strapped to her saddle. Her gelding stood patiently, lipping at brush around his bridle and she grimaced when she didn't find any rags in her pack.

Her choices, she realized, were limited to tearing up her towel, a shirt or folding her clean underwear and using those. She had three pairs, she realized. She'd worn the other ones for three days when they hadn't found anywhere suitable for laundry and she'd shoved them in an outer pocket. She fumbled for them around old socks -- momentarily considering but dismissing using a sock --and pulled them out, folding them neatly and trying to tuck them to where she didn't think they'd bunch too badly in the saddle.

"Charlie, what are you doing?" She heard the crash of brush and she stood, facing him above a waist-high bush she couldn't identify.

"I said give me a minute. Trust me. This is kind of an emergency."

"Oh." He looked startled then shrugged. "Shit. Sorry. I. . .is it your period?"

"How it became such a popular topic in this family, I don't know. But yeah."

He shrugged. "Connor asked about it a few days ago."

She felt her head whip back to him. "Why does Connor care?"

He grinned. "He knows you had one right before Mexico and that was more than a month ago. He's hoping your pregnant."

"Well inform your son that you've not knocked me up this month."

"There's a pre-blackout term you don't hear much anymore," he commented.

"Yeah, well, Maggie used it sometimes when she was being sarcastic."

"Wonder where she picked it up from? I don't think it's really an English term."

"No idea," Charlie finished fastening her pants and remounted her horse, which of course moved everything out of position and she growled, abandoned dignity and reached down to re-adjust, even if Bass was watching. He had the decency to look sympathetic, even if she was sure he was trying to hide a smile. They moved their horses back onto the road and she kneed hers into a slow trot. It was a bumpy gait and she tried posting -- something Maggie had explained to her -- but it was nearly as uncomfortable as trying to sit the shot. Bass, she realized, was right beside her and he didn't seem to be the least bothered.

"Hey," he said, reining his horse back to a walk, "you're riding against the motion. If you want to post, let the horse's motion throw you into it and land when his shoulder is going down or else it feels a little like you're getting spanked."

"I noticed. It's why I hate trotting," she sighed. "But I really don't like posting either."

"It's because your stirrups are too long. Posting isn't ideal in a western saddle at the best of times."

"How are you sitting like that?" she asked. "Like you're not even moving?"

"It's because I'm rolling my hips with the horse. . .taking all the motion before it can get to me shoulder. Go side to side with his gait. You should be able to feel it as soon as he starts moving. As he puts one leg forward drop the opposite hip, then switch when the next leg goes forward." He put his horse into a shuffling trot and exaggerated his movement so she could see them and she tried it herself when her horse followed his. It was awkward and a little uncomfortable but better than it had been and he grinned at her.

They kept on for about five minutes before he dropped back to a walk. "That should keep our spacing about right," he commented. "Don't want to get too close to Aaron and Cynthia." They'd been the second group out that morning and had Jeremy and Connor behind them while Miles and Rachel took up the rear.

"Where'd you learn to ride like that?" she commented. She could use a horse for transportation but she was pretty sure neither she or the horse ever made much of a favorable impression on each other. "Was it before the blackout?" Afterwards people didn't seem to care much for how they looked but Maggie had told her people had once competed against each other.

"My sisters were horse crazy but I never really cared much. That was their thing. No, it was about a year after we got Philadelphia really going as the Capitol and one of the local warlords sent me this giant black stallion as a gift. Thing scared the crap out of me. I could use a horse to get from place to place but this was a war horse, though he was useless on the battlefield. He didn't mind noises -- I could shoot off his back -- but the instant he smelled blood he'd go insane and dump me. But the first few times I rode him I could barely stay on. He moved all funny. Gaited, my groom said. Apparently he was something called a Friesian and they really were war horses once. But I couldn't stay on him. My groom could, but he couldn't really explain what he was doing -- guy was great with horses but he couldn't deal with people. He had no idea how he did it anything. . .just did it by instinct." He broke off to look around, and she realized she'd not been paying much attention to the road herself.

"Have we passed the turnoff yet?"

"Pretty sure we hadn't. No, we haven't." He pointed ahead to where she could see Aaron and Cynthia with the cart pulled over the side of the road. They were probably about an eighth of a mile away and Aaron waved one arm before swinging the cart east of the highway. "That's it there."

They rode on, arriving at the split in about three minutes. Aaron and Cynthia were out of sight around a curve and he turned his horse to face northeast, while Charlie turned to watch Southwest but he backed his horse so that even though they were facing different directions, they could still see each other. She'd be the one, she realized, who'd probably spot Connor and Jeremy.

"So what happened?"

"With the horse?" At her nod, he snorted. "Miles said if I was going to be a President I had to look like something other than a lump. You wouldn't believe it to look at him but he's got a lot more natural talent at riding than I do. No, really," he added when she looked about to protest. Miles, she thought, did well enough but Bass appeared to actually work with the animal rather than using it as just another tool like Miles. "Natural talent, he's well ahead of me. I'm probably better now but you'd not believe the hours of lessons I had to get first. Miles and my groom -- Tyler; died about a year later of chicken pox -- found me this old guy who had taught riding lessons. Apparently he'd been something once in the dressage circuit. It took him about a month to get me where I could sit on that stallion and not feel like I was going to fall off. . .I had lessons for about two years before we got a shipment of horses from Virginia and one of the handlers who came with them was his daughter. They'd never found each other after the Blackout. He went back with her because her family was there. I sent the stupid stallion with him. Thing and I did eventually come to a mutual understanding about him not throwing me and me staying off his mouth but William and Thing loved each other."

"You didn't actually call it 'Thing' did you?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. His real name was Midnight Oaks Royal Highness. William and Tyler called him Royal. I called it that thing and Thing ended up sticking. I'd ride him in parades sometimes. After him, most other horses are pretty easy to ride. William said every horse was different and used to make me switch up between three or four every lesson, just to make sure I had some concept down. He was the type who could charge doctors and lawyers a mint to give lessons to their kids so they could win ribbons before the blackout. He couldn't stand anyone riding who didn't make it an art form." He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if he's still alive. I called him old but I doubt he was more than fifty, even if his hair had turned totally white, which would put him in his early sixties now. I wonder. . .what he thought. . .if he thought I bombed Atlanta." He was starting to get that haunted look again and she shifted her horse closer to put a hand on his arm.

"I'm sure the people who know you well know --"

"That I couldn't do it?" He laughed mockingly. "The ones who knew me well knew I tried to bomb Georgia. Hell, the entire population of Atlanta knew about it. I dropped thousands of leaflets out of the helicopters advertising the fact. If Miles hadn't already killed Alec, Alec would have heard me telling him to go ahead and detonate. So yeah, the people who knew me best knew that was exactly the sort of thing I'd do. What about the whole stupid war with Georgia and Miles in the first place?"

"You've got to forgive yourself," she snapped. "Maybe not enough to let it happen again. But enough to be able to tell me a story about how you learned to ride without hating yourself. If I need to be able to talk about my past and the people in than you need to be able to as well."  
He took a few deep breaths and nodded, biting his lip. "Okay."

"There have got to be plenty of memories in there about things that were good."

"Not once Miles left." She spotted a pair of riders headed towards them and raised her arm like Aaron had the instant they were close enough for her to see the color on their shirts to be sure it really was Jeremy and Connor. One of them -- Connor she thought -- waved back and she swung her horse onto the road Cynthia and Aaron had taken.

Bass' hose followed hers and she watched his jaw clench. "Okay, what about from before Miles left? Maybe give me a few lessons so I don't look and feel as much like a sack of potatoes." That won her a slight smile.

"You're not too bad. You ride a lot like Miles. Not really very comfortable but you're not worried about falling off either. I was, when I first started riding."

"Except you figured out how much I hate trotting and you make it look easy." Cantering was easier. It was faster but the smooth rhythm didn't make her feel nearly so off balance.

"Fine. I'll teach you how to trot. And I'll even try to teach you how to do a few other things he taught me if I can remember them. You name you horse?"

It was a completely unexpected question and it caught her off guard. "No. Why?"

"You've been riding him since we went down to Mexico and he doesn't have a name?"

"No. I've never heard you call your horse anything."

He looked surprised. "Really? Well, this is Badger."

He seemed casual enough and his horse lifted her head just enough at the sound of her name that she was pretty sure he hadn't just made it up. "How did I miss that?"

"Well I usually only talk to her when there's no one else close enough to hear me. Don't want them to think I've got a screw working loose again."

"And all the other horses?"

"Connor hasn't named his. I don't think he wants to, after what happened coming back from Mexico." Charlie wondered if that was part of the reason she hadn't really thought of it either. She wanted transportation, not another friend to lose. "Cynthia's gelding is Quaker and she calls the mare we bought in Mexico Pearl. Miles' mare is Max, Rachel's is Sam and Jeremy's is Argo."

"How did I not notice that everyone but Connor and I named our horses?"

"Well, we usually just talk about saddling or unsaddling the horses." The road was curvy and overgrown. They had to slow down to pick their way around hulks of cars and fallen limbs. The sun was directly overhead and Charlie wiped at her forehead.

"Any suggestions?" She thought about him telling her that he hoped he be able to get her a dog when this was over. She grinned when she saw him laughing. "What?"

"Charlie," he gestured towards her horse's face. "Notice anything."

He was an ordinary bay, a rich brown with a black mane and tail and a white stripe down the front of his face. "What, the blaze. You want me to call him Blaze?"

"It's pretty generic but it's a great place to start, especially if you're worried about getting attached since we'll probably sell them in Savannah if we can get that train."

"Fair enough. Connor's gelding has a star. Should we just start calling it Star around him." She was pretty sure he knew she was teasing but she realized it also wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 

They rode for another two hours and she was just starting to doze when she heard Bass' sword come out of its scabbard and she fumbled her crossbow off her shoulder. He held up a hand, pointing at the brush and she started to raise the crossbow but he shook his head. She didn't lower it but she didn't fire and after about five minutes she started to hear the brush rustle and something swung up the branches of the tree to watch them. It seemed surprised to see them but not too scared and she felt her mouth drop open in shock. She'd seen pictures of monkeys in books but she had never expected to see one in real life.

The three of them watched each other for about another five minutes -- the horses not seeming to really notice or care -- before Bass sighed regretfully and clucked his horse to start walking. The monkey scrambled back down the tree and Charlie heard it running through the brush.

"I think we were downwind of it and for some reason it didn't hear us coming or didn't realize it was human. I couldn't believe I wasn't dreaming at first."

"I've never seen a monkey before," Charlie said and Bass nodded.

"I think it was a chimpanzee, actually. They're related. Not sure what it's doing around here. Maybe some kind of research lab in the area that it escaped. I'm surprised it survived. I'd think maybe a zoo but this is a weird place to have a zoo. Unless it made its way down here from Shreveport. . .but that seems a little far. You ready to practice some more trotting, we've totally blown our spacing. But that was worth it."

It was easier, she realized, when she rolled her hips side-to-side like he suggested, even if finding and keeping the rhythm was tougher than he made it look. Over the next half-hour they alternated trotting and walking until they spotted Cynthia and Aaron by the turn to Highway 162 that would lead them up into Keithville. They repeated the arm-waving and the cart headed up the road while they turned to wait for Connor and Jeremy. It was less than ten minutes before the other two came into view and they headed on. She wondered if anyone else other than her and Bass had seen the animal and if they would be believed that night.

Less than an hour later she spotted two more in the trees off the road. The chimps were far enough off that they didn't seem to care about the horses and Bass' eyebrows rose as they rode past, turning in the saddle to watch them. "We'll definitely have to ask about this," he commented. “Well, all I can think of to say is we’re clearly not in Texas anymore.”

They'd have crossed over the Texas border, Charlie realized, probably five or six miles back.

It wasn't for another hour -- and three more chimp sightings -- that Charlie saw an old metal sign directing the way to Chimp Haven and she pointed it out to Bass, who laughed. "Huh. Well, good for them for adapting to the blackout better than the rest of us. Wonder how many of them there are now?"

They saw two more before they found Cynthia and Aaron waiting for them at the final turnoff for Keithville. "Did you see them?" Cynthia gasped as soon as they were within earshot.

Charlie nodded. "Incredible, wasn't it?"

"If you like former research subjects with an agenda to get revenge on their former tormentors," Aaron muttered and Cynthia glared at him.

"Enough. They looked sweet."

"They're wild animals, Cynthia. They're not sweet." But Aaron actually smiled. "Still, good for them."

"That's what Bass said too," Charlie couldn't help but tease and Aaron shrugged.

"I'd say it was a guy thing. . .but I think I'd get hit for that," Aaron flinched but Cynthia just rolled her eyes.

"Whatever." She yawned and glanced up at the sky. "It's got to be nearly around seven." Which mean they'd been riding without stopping longer than to use the wood line or let the horses drink for nearly thirteen hours. But as she dismounted, she realized her muscles didn't ache nearly as much as she thought they would. The easier pace Miles had started them on in the beginning had done well to toughen them up but she was pretty sure he planned on keeping them closer to 40 miles a day because he was trying to make sure the horses lasted all the way to Charlotte.

It was about ten minutes before Jeremy and Connor joined them, telling their own stories about the chimps they'd seen and Charlie had just resigned herself that it would be another ten to fifteen minutes before Miles and Rachel arrived when they heard hoof beats coming at a faster pace and Charlie immediately unslung her bow, making sure an arrow was cocked. But as soon as Rachel and Miles rounded the bend that had hid them -- their hoses cantering on the grassy shoulder of the road -- she lowered the weapon at the same time Bass sheathed his swords.

Her mother and uncle looked tired but they were both smiling contentedly and they slowed to a walk while they were still far enough away that none of the other horses would get the urge to bolt.

"Hey guys," Miles said and Charlie thought he looked happier than he had in weeks, "I'm thinking we're going into Keithville to get rooms tonight. Watch or not, I have no desire to be set on by wild animals that have opposable thumbs and have probably been raised by humans. I'm thinking a roof and walls are a good idea. Then we can sell the cart in the morning and be on our way."

"How far is left?" Jeremy asked and Miles pulled out the map.

"Probably about four miles. I think we should just go in as a group. Even a decent size town, visitors are bound to be noticed and four different groups in the same night is more likely to cause more talk than one family on their way to Shreveport from Texas. We're the Martins and we're headed anywhere but Texas."

"Are we done pretending to be a couple?" Connor asked, pointing at Jeremy and Miles nodded.

"Yeah. But think you can keep stand to still be my son for a while longer?"

Connor shrugged and Rachel nodded at Jeremy. "I think you should pretend to be my brother. Bass, can Cynthia be your younger sister?" As soon as she said it, Rachel slapped a hand to her mouth as if she could cover the words and her face went white. Bass' eyes went wide and his shoulders tensed but he didn't react, even when Rachel dropped her hand. "Bass, I am so sorry. . .I never thought. . . ."

"It's okay, Rachel." She could hear the strain in his voice but he forced a smile. "She'll have a fake name so it'll be okay. He turned to start his horse forward, "Just not," for a moment there was an almost savage hint to his voice on the word 'not' but then it was gone, "Angela."

"What about Amy?" Cynthia said quietly, clearly still confused and he nodded.

"Amy will be fine." They all headed east again on a road that still had a metal sign proclaiming it "Keithville-Springridge Rd" and Charlie moved her horse beside the cart where Cynthia was looking confused. Rachel had dropped back to the rear of the group and Charlie was surprised how stricken she still looked. Miles and Jeremy both had their horses on either side of her and she glanced up to see Connor was riding next to his father.

"He had a sister named Cynthia," Charlie said softly and Cynthia's eyes widened. She'd never thought of the fact Aaron's girlfriend shared a name with Bass' sister and she wondered how often he'd thought of it without mentioning it in case she worried. "Bass did. Cynthia and Angela. They were killed by a drunk driver a few years before the blackout along with his parents. Miles was the only family he had left."

Tears formed in Cynthia's eyes but the teacher wiped them away, her face resigned. "No wonder he went crazy then, was it?"

"It got worse. He fell in love after the blackout. Shelley got pregnant and died giving birth." From his widened eyes, she realized Aaron hadn't been told about that. "So again, Miles was the only family he had left. He didn't know about Connor then."

Cynthia turned her head back towards where Rachel was riding with Miles and Charlie was surprised to see how cold her gaze was when she looked back at her Uncle. "And Miles left?"

"Trust me, he wishes he could take it back."

Aaron snorted and Charlie glanced over to see him shaking his head. "You know, I once thought breaking with Monroe was about the only good thing he'd ever done."

Charlie shook her head slowly. "I once thought it was a good thing too. Now. . .I'm not so sure all our lives wouldn't have been a lot different it Miles had stayed with the Militia."

Cynthia sat up straighter. "Well," there was a clipped tone to her voice that Charlie wasn't used to, "then maybe I'm glad he did. Or I'd still be with a monster I was too afraid to leave."

 

It was full dark before they reached Keithville and. It was just a little bigger than Sylvania but it had no walls and they headed for the bar. It was a single story building but Rachel and Miles went in to ask where to get rooms while Connor and Jeremy cut over to what looked like a stable to ask about stalls for the horses.

Miles and Rachel came back out, and Miles pointed towards the stable. "No rooms at the bar. . .but they suggested we try the stables for us as well.

They were met by Connor and Jeremy at the door. "Got us a paddock," Connor said. "And the loft for us. Apparently they don't have an inn here."

"Yeah, that's what they told us at the bar," Miles confirmed. "Well, a hayloft is better than sleeping on the ground. Did you ask about wanting to sell the cart?"

"No," Jeremy said. "I can go mention it. What reason should I give?"

"Tell him it attracts too much attention on the road if we put anything in it and no reason to slow us down just for a holding firewood."

"Got it. Go ahead and dump your packs up in the loft. He said we can use the yard to build a fire for cooking. The bar doesn't serve meals. Saddles should go up there too. He said not to leave anything lying around. Apparently they have a real problem with stuff walking away in the area." Jeremy jerked his head back towards the way they'd ridden into town.

Charlie got the saddle of her horse -- she had to remind herself to call him Blaze -- and carried it and her back upstairs together. The loft was good sized but there would be no privacy that night, she realized, even if the hay would make a soft bed. She headed back down the stairs to help Connor with his and Jeremy's equipment. Jeremy was going over the cart with a sharp faced man who was sliding under the traces to check how they were connected to the underside.  
When she came back down again, the man was inspecting the harness as if expecting to find cuts in the leather. "Why sell it?" he finally asked and Jeremy shrugged. "We've got a long way to go yet and we thought we could haul our supplies. But people who ignore a rider will try to mess with a cart because they think it means stuff to steal. And it's a pain if we need to get off the road."

The man shrugged as if agreeing. "I'm a little strapped for diamonds. Will you take a trade for it?"

"A pair of saddles and bridles," Charlie put in before Jeremy could name a price and the former Captain nodded.

"Good catch, Sarah. Oh, Dave, this is my niece." It was an alias she'd used enough times it didn't feel odd to be called that. "Saddles and bridles. . .and saddle blankets. Maybe some meat if you any?"

The man shook his head. "No. Huntings bad around here because the chimps scare away a lot of the game and we're just about out of what we had. A group of us are going south to hunt next week but we're pretty rationed until then."

"Yeah," Jeremy said, "I meant to ask about that. We saw them coming through."

"It was a facility to retire chimps that had been used in medical research. Suppose to be a geriatric population. . .retirement home. What could go wrong?"

"Well I'd guess the blackout," Jeremy commented and the man snorted.

"Well that would be one. But not the first. Had a male there that no matter how many times they gave him a vasectomy, kept being able to reproduce -- made me wonder what research they'd done on him. They'd done his third about six months before the blackout and they put the females on birth control, just as a precaution. Well, after the blackout, the caretakers tried to do their best. But they started getting out. And then we started seeing a lot more mothers with babies so we're pretty sure that third vasectomy didn't take either. Some people said we should just go around and shoot them all but most people from around here either worked at it or had visited it and we decided to leave them alone. . .they'd either live or die like the rest of. They'd done pretty well for themselves, I'd say. And sure, we have to hunt elsewhere but we don't have the problems with wild dogs like they do up Shreveport way. The chimps steal stuff if you don't lock it up but you usually find it a few days later -- a little knawed and shat on but usually okay otherwise. Anyone who minded them moved away a while ago."

"Well it certainly was a surprise," Jeremy admitted. "If you don't have any meat, do you have any vegetables?"

"I can throw in a couple pounds of potatoes and carrots. And some grain for your horses as well as the hay that comes with the paddock."

"That'd be fine," Jeremy said. "Sarah, can you go with him to get the saddles."

Charlie followed him into a room that held about a dozen saddles and he picked out two that were a little dusty but otherwise seemed in good repair. He took a little longer with the bridles, asking questions about how the horses handled before choosing two. The blankets were thick felted wood, clearly woven since the blackout with no attempt to be colorful but they were soft and he helped her carry everything up into the loft to deposit with their other gear. Rachel was arranging blankets on the straw and Connor was digging in his pack for something.

"What brings you this way?" he asked as he placed the saddle on its back so it was resting on the horn and cantle. He casually flipped all the other saddles and she tilted her head in question. "Oh, if you rest them like that, it doesn't mess up the fenders. When you rest them like that it turns them in at the corners. Depending on how well they fit the horse, you can end up pinching them in the shoulders or flanks if the leather starts to crease too badly."

"I'll have to remember that," Charlie commented. She had started to get suspicious when he'd asked about their travel but the fact he'd so quickly gotten diverted by the saddles meant it was probably just idle curiosity. He nodded at her before he headed back down the stairs. She heard Bass and Miles' footsteps on the stairs and they came into the loft, faces grim. "What's up?" Charlie asked.

"I was over talking to the bartender. He used to be one of the keepers at the chimp place and he was grumbling that he's noticed the population seems to be skittish. Thinks the Patriots are capturing them. The main group is in Shreveport but they have an outpost about five miles from here?"

"Why would they need chimps?" Rachel asked, her voice bitter. "They have plenty of humans to experiment on directly."

"Well that's what I think we might want to check out. Charlie, Connor, you both up for a little scouting?"

"Sure," Connor said, shoving stuff back into his pack. "Now?"

"Not exactly. I figure we have dinner first and then pretend to go to bed before we head out. Rachel, I'd like to leave you, Aaron and Cynthia here."

Rachel shrugged. "Fine with me. You want the horses saddled in case we have to get out quick?"

"It would be hard to explain why they're saddled in the middle of the night," Miles sighed. "But if you can come up with something, that would probably be best."

They left two hours later, going down one of the holes cut in the floor to throw hay into a stall and sneaking past the cover of the horses. Connor jogged over to Charlie, his face exhilarated.

"So," he whispered, "is this what it was like? During the war?"

"A little," she whispered back. They hadn't had horses most of the time. "Except for. . .well. . . ."  
She gestured over to where Bass was a little way ahead of Miles, head swiveling to watch in all directions.

"Okay, other than that." And Jeremy, scouting further up ahead. He'd been on the other side as well.

With no wall, it was easy to find a way out of town that no one was watching and find a spot in the brush, out of sight to re-group.

"Now," Miles said sternly. "This is recon only. We are not. . .I'll say again, NOT engaging with them. We are just observing. This is not," he turned to glare at Jeremy, who shrugged, "Butch and Sundance." Whatever that meant. Charlie glanced at Connor who returned her stare, clearly not understanding either.

"Uh-huh." Bass sounded distracted and tired but he jerked his head. "Come on. It's been a long day. Let's get this over with."

 

After an hour of scouting with no trace of Patriots, they came to a Y in the road that both led generally north. "We should split up," Connor said and Jeremy nodded.

"He's right. He and I can take the right side, you three go left."

"We'll meet back here in two hours," Miles directed. "If you find something, we can go check it out together after that."

Charlie could tell he hated separating them but if there was a Patriot outpost, they were doing a good job keeping it hidden. Charlie found wheel ruts after about thirty minutes but they eventually found an empty cart near the ruins of an old shed no boot or hoof prints to go with it. She had no idea why anyone would bring a cart into the middle of nowhere but after twenty minutes with no additional signs anyone had been in the area, she had to give up. Part of her wondered, slightly irritated, if the chimps would pull a cart but it seemed unlikely.

They were close to the time when they'd need to turn around, walking past a partially fallen wall that might or might not have once been some kind of structure -- Bass and Miles walking slightly ahead. She heard Bass comment, "I hate to say it, but this whole thing is leading nowhere," when suddenly Bass' entire posture changed. "Get down," he yelled, shoving Miles towards the concrete wall on their left. She dove in behind them, not entirely sure what had happened when a rifle-shot broke the stillness. For an instant she wondered if they'd just blundered too close to someone's home when three more shots rang out. It wasn't just an ordinary hunting rifle, either, she realized.

Bass fired back with the shotgun he'd been carrying and she snuck a glance over the wall. "What do you think? Six? Eight?" Miles asked. He was carrying a pistol but at that range it wouldn't make much difference. Connor and Jeremy each had rifles, she remembered. They'd gotten sloppy, not dividing their equipment more equally between the teams and possibly in even splitting up at all. She wondered if Jeremy and Connor would be able to hear what was happening but she was pretty sure from Bass' grim face he didn't have enough shells to hold them off indefinitely.

"About that," Bass replied. ""You remember South Bend?"

"Yeah, that would work," Miles commented.

"You guys just name cities," she snapped, recalling the day she'd brought Bass to Willoughby and he'd talked about Ann Arbor without explaining what he meant.

Bass' face was betraying his pleasure at a straight fight and he pulled his sword, exchanging a look with Miles. "Guess this is Butch and Sundance."

"Shut up," Miles snapped.

"Here catch." Bass tossed her the shotgun without even looking at her. "Cover us."

She yelped in pain as the cloth he had the shells wrapped in hit her on the knuckles and Bass went one way and Miles went the other. She swore at them, not even entirely sure what they were doing but she managed to work her way around the rubble enough to get the shotgun over the low wall and blast toward where she had last seen a group of muzzle shots, praying Miles and Bass were skirting wide enough she wouldn't hit them. She repeated the maneuver a few moments later, keeping her head down as bullets began impacting on the wall and a few skipping over. One of them ricocheted off the remains of the wall that was farther back and smacked just a few inches away from her arm with enough force to embed itself into the brick enough that it didn't fall. She swore, reloading, and sending another blast in the directions of the Patriots.

She heard the staccato of gunfire that didn't appear to be aimed in her direction and she reloaded again, finally daring to peek above the brick. It won her two more shots being directed at her location and she aimed for the muzzle flashes. She heard a grunting groan that made her wonder if she'd actually hit someone but she didn't dare check, but she did fire again in the same location, trusting that Miles and Bass would realize she was firing blind.

She'd been scared before in fights -- that was nothing new -- but it was the first time she'd found her lips moving in silent prayer; odd considering she'd never really believed in much of anything. But the mantra repeated in her mind of "please let him be okay," seemed out of place considering she'd never done anything like that, even in the war when she'd been fighting with Miles. Even during the brief battle it had been her and Danny holding off the helicopters with the rebels before Miles and Rachel had arrived with the missile launchers.

She heard another round of fire but she was pretty sure again that it wasn't directed at her and she risked another look. This time no one fired back at her so she adjusted enough that she had a view over the wall in a different position than where they had been targeting her. She watched the darkness around her, looking for anyone trying to flee into the brush or incoming support, feeling her heartbeat calm. She had no proof that Miles and Bass were both uninjured but the fact no one was shooting at her seemed to support that theory. She tried to stop her imagination from picturing one of them on the ground -- a last dying Patriot lucky shot leaving him bleeding out. It would be like Danny, minus the helicopter.

She didn't dare call out, in case they were occupied and she distracted them but she felt the panic grow and the minutes passed and she tasted blood. She'd chewed the inside of her bottom lip ragged, she realized and she pressed her tongue to it to slow the bleeding.  
She heard heavy footsteps and popped up to see Miles and Bass with a third man unconscious between them. She wondered for just a moment of Connor or Jeremy had joined them and been hurt but he was too bulky to be either of them and was dressed in Patiot-tan.

"Go see if you can find some rope to tie him up," Miles grunted as they lowered the man to the ground and he took the shotgun from her. "Bass, go help her and collect up all the rifles and ammo. See if they have any info. But do it quick. We need to get out of the area in case they had friends close by."

"Who is this guy?" Charlie asked, watching the way Miles' face was practically gloating despite his evident concern.

He held up his right hand where the scar was still plainly visible. "He's the one who did this. He was with the Andovers at the time. He was in Willoughby not very long ago. Carissa thinks he was the one who was handling the fake Monroe."

"So why would he be here?" Charlie asked and Miles shrugged.

"Following us or just taking the route to D.C. we are. It is the more direct course. I don't know. But I intent do find out. Now hurry up with that rope because I'd rather get him tied before he comes to because I'll probably have to shoot him and he's got to much intel to just do that."

Her cursory search of the area turned up no rope but she grabbed four of the fallen rifles, leaving Bass to check more thoroughly over the bodies for spare ammo or intel and she carried them back to Miles, undoing the sling straps. They could bind them all together and carry them in a single bundle if they had to, she reasoned.

Miles tied the guy with the slings and Bass came back. "I got what was left of the rifles and ammo. Didn't find anything on these guys and the only things in their packs appears to be food. He dumped four canvas packs down next to the pile and looked at the unconscious man. "He's going to be tough to carry."

"How far back was that cart?" Miles asked and Charlie shrugged.

"Maybe fifteen minutes south. Why?"

"Because Bass is right. He'll be tough to carry back to the rendezvous. We'll need to hide the bodies first though.

They left Bass to watch the prisoner and she and Miles checked the area until they found an old well. "Hope nobody drinks out of this," Miles commented as they carried the bodies to it and they dropped them in. There were six of them and Charlie was starting to worry but the water was deep enough to cover them all. It smelled brackish and foul so she doubted it was actively used.

The man was still out when they got back to Bass and Miles wrinkled his nose like he was unsure but he swung the shotgun, butt first, into the Patriot's forehead. "There, that should keep him out a little while longer."

They got him propped up and hung one of the packs off his shoulder before Charlie tied his hands behind his back. They bound his feet with a length of sling long enough to allow his legs to drag easily but that would hobble him in case he was able to wake up. Bass and Miles each took a Patriot pack before they got him over their shoulders and dragged him. Charlie had the weapons with her and it was an awkward bundle to carry.

They were all sweating and panting by the time they got back to the cart. It had taken them nearly half an hour since Miles and Bass had needed to rest several times. "You couldn't have found someone lighter," Bass grumbled as they heaved him into the cart and changed his ties so he was tied to it with thick knots. The two men stepped between the shafts and each grabbed one. For a moment Charlie though it wasn't going to work but she spotted the hand-brake and scrambled up onto the seat to release it.

The wheels still didn't turn easily and Charlie helped push and she could hear Miles and Bass debating what exactly what they could do with their prisoner. "I wish we take him back to Carver," Miles grumbled. "But it would take too long and I don't want to split us up any further."

"We're not even a day out of Texas," Bass commented. "We can start asking around and see if we can attract some Rangers and send him back with them if we have to. Think Fry would appreciate it?"

"No idea. But I'll bet he'd be able to get something out of him. Might take him a while but everyone has their cracking point."

They were still about two miles from the rendezvous point when Bass and Miles jerked to a halt and Charlie heard Connor's voice. "Hey, relax, just us. Figured you'd ran into trouble when we heard what we were pretty sure was gunfire."  
"  
You could say that," Bass said. "Now get over here and help us with this thing."

"Um," Jeremy sounded confused, "Not to doubt your intentions, but is there any reason you're dragging a dead guy around?"

"He's not dead," Bass snapped but Charlie moved to the side of the cart to look up at the same time Miles and Bass turned around and all three of then swore. Their prisoner was slumped forward, head at an unnatural angle with dark blood staining his chin. Miles swung up onto the seat and when he changed the angle of the head, blood poured in a thick stream into his uniform. Miles reached into his mouth and winced.

"Son of a bitch had a cyanide tooth. Who the hell are these guys," he snarled in frustration.

"Well, so much for getting him to Fry. Come on, let's find somewhere to hide the body and ditch the cart. His lips twisted. "Charlie, start breaking down the weapons. I want to take them with us but we're going to have to fit them in pieces in our packs."

“Guess, we’re not going to find out what they’re doing with the chimps,” Jeremy commented, helping heft the man down off the cart.

“Guess not,” Miles said. “Though if I remember right, they eat meat, don’t they?”

“I don’t know?” Bass commented. “Why do you ask?”

“Maybe I’m just being petty about my hand. But I say we drag him into the woods, strip his clothes and leave him for them to find.”

“Well that would be faster than burying him,” Jeremy sighed. “Besides,” he glanced up at the sky, “We’re going to make it back in probably enough time to just make an early start. We probably don’t want to hang out another day around here.”

“Agreed,” Miles grunted as each of the four men grabbed a limb. “Charlie, you okay here while we get rid of him?”

“Just don’t go too far.” She had about half the weapons stripped into pieces but she set one aside and slapped a magazine into it.

They were back about ten minutes later. She had finished with the rifles but she was starting in question at the cart. “What do we do with this?” she asked and Miles grimaced, grabbing a trace.

“I’m pretty sure we passed some abandoned houses on our way out here. We’ll just leave it at one of them.” He yawned. “Come on, it’s going to be a really long day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. . .my computer has a virus and until I can get it fixed I am "computer surfing."
> 
> The good thing is that everything I had written in later chapters was already on my email so it's not lost, even if my hard drive is a total loss (which I hope not because I have a lot of other stuff on there that I want).
> 
> Well, the entire chapter took an abrupt left turn when I was map-reconning their route and saw Google Maps had an icon near the road for something called "Chimp Haven." I immediately looked it up and found it is a retirement community for research chimps and I started to question that idea of having my characters seeing some chimpanzees. But then I began to question if they'd have left them able to breed if they really were a "rescue" facility (they also take in other chimps from private parties/entertainment industries, etc.) and was about to give up the idea when I stumbled on a press release from Valentine's Day 2012 where the employees found a surprise waiting for them: a new baby. She was the second baby born at the facility. The first was about four years earlier when one of the male - Conan - had a vasectomy that hadn't taken. They DNA tested the baby and re-vasectomized the male that matched.
> 
> Well, four-odd years later when the second baby was born, they did pregnancy tests on all the females and found one other pregnant. When the DNA results came back in they discovered the SAME male was again the father. This time they re-vasectomized ALL the males (making it a third for Conan) and put all the females on birth control as an added precaution. Well, if the blackout happened, birth control for chimpanzees would be unavailable and if he'd been able to beat two vasectomies, why not a third. . .and while the population would have had a certain number of losses from chimpanzees unable to survive without human care, I figured plenty of them would have been able to adapt and survive on their own; enough to build a fairly stable colony in the seventeen some years since the Blackout. I'm not enough of a primate expert to know how realistic this truly is but they have over 190 at the facility, so I think it's possible (and it it's not, well, this is Revolution. Anything's possible).
> 
> The other thing about this chapter that will probably stand out to everyone is. . .they've seen a part of it before. Yes, we have. I've wanted to use this fight scene for a very long time and have tried to fit it in several places but it just didn't work. The other one I want is the school where Charlie and Bass are fighting together against the Patriots. . .but part of the reason that worked was he came back for her after he left and I don't see Bass leaving Charlie in a fight. We're a little passed that. So short of going back and writing something that happened in between when they arrived in Willoughby and the day they started gutting fish (there was a 2 month time gap that I may someday fill in. . .but I think that would be tough to find them an enemy to fight that wouldn't alert the Patriots), I think I will just have to let this that one go (and with it, I am also abandoning my hope of ever using the "I'm Batman" line. . .I absolutely loved it but I also have to concede why it worked was they weren't expecting Bass to show up and save them, whereas the dynamic between the group is much altered.
> 
> The next chapter will bring the Neville's back into the fold -- the male Neville's at least. But the offer to add rescuing Julia into the mix will be a powerful motivator to have them all on the same side. I admit, once I heard Bass say is 2x6 'He may be a SOB, but you know who would be handy to have in this fight? Tom Neville' (not an exact quote) I really thought we were going to end up with them all on the same side fighting the Patriots. Granted, we got a little of it, but not the all three of them together at once, united for a common purpose. Because if these three can put aside their differences. . .well, we saw what happened once.
> 
> But for all that, it will not be a happy chapter, even if it ends on a hopeful note. I have to re-work the beginning but it is mostly written so I hope to have it up before the end of the weekend. After that, you might have to wait a bit because I am getting sent somewhere for work that might not have the best internet access.


	40. Chapter 40

It was getting near to dawn when they finally made it back to town. Her mother, Aaron and Cynthia had moved all the horses into the barn where they weren't so visible that they were all saddled but Aaron rose from his seat on the stairs when he saw them. "We moving out?"

"Yeah," Miles nodded. "That's probably best. We ran into a little trouble we weren't expecting."

"Not a surprise," the beaded man replied. "I'll go wake Rachel and Cynthia. Somebody better check cinches. I didn't tighten them much."

Charlie yawned, trying to fight the reflex but she shuffled over to start checking the saddles as Connor headed for the stairs.

"It's probably what, about four AM?" Jeremy asked and Miles yawned. She wasn't sure if he was tired or because she just had.

"Something like that. Why?"

"Oh, I just figured I'd go give our host a head-up that we're out of here. Looks less suspicious that way in case people start asking questions later."

Miles just shrugged, like he didn't really care and he joined her, going down the horse lines. Despite his warning, Aaron seemed to have done a good job and she paused to pat her own horse's shoulder. "Hey, Blaze," she whispered to the gelding and he turned, towards her. It was silly to expect him to recognize his name after just a few hours when she'd never actually called him that before, but she felt herself start to grin. "Well, I think someone's been calling you that for a while, hasn't he?" She'd never actually heard him calling her horse by name but then she'd not noticed he'd named his own mare Badger either.

She turned to Bass as he came over to hand her a chunk of bread. "Breakfast," he muttered, looking more tired than she'd seen in a while.

"Thanks. So when did you name my horse?"

The grin did a lot to disguise the lack of sleep. "Knew it already, did he? Traitor. You weren't supposed to let her know about that." He was talking to the horse, she realized. "About a week ago. I was really glad when you came up with the same thing because it would have been really hard think of him as something else."

"And Connor's horse?"

He shrugged. "There, I admit, you have me. I did think of Star, but it just didn't seem to fit. I was thinking Jester."

"Connor would probably like that better," she agreed.

"Connor would like what better?" her stepson asked and she almost jumped, not realizing he was standing just behind her.

"We're naming your horse," Bass said. "Just because I get tired of calling things horse all the time. Do you mind Jester?"

"I've been trying not to name him," Connor sighed. "After what happened to the last one. But if I was going to name him, he'd be Lynx."

"Lynx works," Charlie said and watched Bass' lips ripple in amusement."

"Yeah, that's probably better anyway. Otherwise I'd be trying not to comment 'Jester's dead' in my really pathetic Maverick impression." Charlie and Connor both looked at him then each other, shaking their heads but Aaron's voice came from the other side of the horse where he was checking Cynthia's mare.

"It was actually Goose who said 'Jester's Dead,' not Maverick. Common misconception."

"I'll have to take your word for it since we can't actually check it," Bass said. "But thank you. These two here are just staring at me like I'm absolutely nuts. Sometimes nice to know I'm not the only person on the planet that gets my jokes."

"You mean besides Miles," Charlie commented and it won her a slight smile. 

The main door to the barn swung open and Charlie went for her glock at the same time Bass swung, half drawing his sword before she realized it was Jeremy with their host. The man looked sleepy but not overly suspicious -- even if she did not him glance at where he'd placed the cart and harness as if verifying they weren't taking it along with the saddles. "Well, good luck to you folks on your journey. Thanks for letting me know you were leaving early. I like to keep the place locked up when no one's in it. Darn chimps can open doors just fine if they're not bolted down."

He yawned as Rachel and Cynthia came downstairs, carrying their own and Miles and Aaron's packs. Connor handed hers over so she could secure it to the back of her saddle and she led Blaze outside. There was just the faintest lightening in the eastern sky and she mounted, fastening her jacket around her.

They made it to the spot where they'd stashed the pieces of the rifles -- about a mile northeast of town and Miles filled everyone in on what had happened during the night.

"So," he said, finishing the story, "I think maybe it's best we skip Shreveport. Getting intel about what they're doing there does not make up for the risk of potentially being spotted. Even if it does mean finding out what they're doing around here. I think we should push straight over to Savannah and try to get that train up to D.C." He looked around and when no one protested he nodded. "I figure we can do 45 miles a day pretty easily. That should get us there in about twelve days."

"News will probably get to D.C. about Texas ahead of us anyway," Bass commented. "But that gives Carissa some time to get some information for us but not so much time she gives up and stops expecting us."

"The next few days are going to be pretty bad," Miles admitted. "I want to try to get as far away from here as quick as we can. Which means we're going to be pretty tired given that most of us didn't really sleep last night. We'll push on through for a few days then maybe find a place to stop for a day or two. By then the horse could probably use the break as much as we do."

Charlie broke away from the group while they were packing up the rifles and found a clump of brush. To her relief, her padding was only lightly spotted and she changed it, grateful after the last period where she'd bled heavily, this one seemed to be cooperating somewhat. She stifled another yawn, trying not to flinch at the thought of another day in the saddle without getting much of a chance to rest. But, she reflected grimly, if she was lucky, the exhaustion would be enough to stop her period again.

 

They passed a sign for Monroe, Mississippi on the morning of their third day out of Keithville and Charlie tried hard not to comment but she saw Bass' backwards glance at it a few times. If they had still had the cart, she would have tried to have grabbed it for him but a large metal sign would be awkward on horseback and she rose close enough to pat him on the arm. He nodded in appreciation and smiled lightly at her but she could see his weariness in the lines etched in his face and the way he yawned more frequently. The nights were all too short because Miles started putting two people on watch at a time. He never spoke of the attack near Keithville but she could tell it bothered him that the same man who had been with the Andovers had been there and she couldn't help but wonder sometimes if it had been a coincidence or if the Patriots had been expecting them. Even worse, she realized, was that if they were expecting them, was the possibility they'd gotten their information from Carissa -- either by design or by torture. And if they no longer had an in at the White House, could their plan succeed or were they looking at the war they couldn't hope to win by brute force.

She tried to push away the line of thought, recalling how she once thought she'd be fighting Monroe forever. But the smile faded on her lips, even as she glanced at him. Even if things had worked out once, she doubted she'd be so lucky a second time. She wasn't sure she even wanted to be, thinking of it. Because if something bad enough came along to make her join forces with the Patriots, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it could be.

Miles surprised them all by shifting up the order the next day. Even though Aaron and Cynthia no longer had the cart -- and thus weren't the slowest vehicle to set pace by -- the two of them had proven to be good at navigating by map alone so he had left them in the lead. She didn't quite understand why Miles moved himself and Rachel up to point position, making Jeremy and Connor the rearguard. It was about noon, when she and Bass found Miles, Rachel, Aaron and Cynthia waiting for them by a small turnoff road that Miles flashed a grin at her that was tired and yet strangely triumphant. He shook his head at her questions, pointing to where she could see Jeremy and Connor still at least a half-mile back. The road, she realized, would have to be unusually straight and flat to give that kind of visibility.

Miles looked like he was napping on his horse until Connor and Jeremy finally rode up to them and her uncle pointed north. "If the map isn't lying," her uncle said. "We're about a mile from a town called Dehli. It's off the road a little and I think it's a pretty good place to try to go into and try to figure out if anyone has any gossip about what's going on between the Patriots and Texas. And I think we could all use the early night and the beds and not having to cook for ourselves."

The entire idea sounded spectacular, she decided and she noticed everyone around her look suddenly fresh, as if just the idea of a short day and a long nights sleep was as good as a nap itself.

 

The town reminded her of Willoughby and -- fortunately -- they saw no sign of Patriot presence. There was a small rooming house and she tried to wait patiently while Miles, Rachel and the proprietor chatted about their life stories -- fake in their case -- until they handed her the key to the room that was going to be hers and Bass.' The hostess was lamenting she hadn't expected such a crowd and didn't have anything suitable for meals and she listened to Miles joking they'd find what the bar when she lost what little remained of her patience. "We'll catch up with you guys later," she said, trying for a smile, even though she was pretty sure it had a lot of teeth in it. Jeremy grinned at her and reached into his bag, pulling out an apple and tossing it at her. She caught it and he shrugged.

"Hey, you never know when you might it," he teased and she felt herself turning red but she grabbed her bag with one hand and Bass' hand with other, dragging him up the stairs.

She had to try three doors before she found the one that fit the key. Bass, she noticed, had snagged the apple and was leaning against the wall, looking smug about something and she resisted the urge to snap at him. She hadn't noticed any blood for the last day but her hormones were still all over the place and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "If you want to go back down and get dinner first," she said, trying to sound reasonable and understanding but he shrugged, still chewing, as she stood in the doorway. She moved into the room and he followed her, locking the door behind them and she felt the tension start to fade.

"Well," he said, sounding more mild than she expected, "I think I can count this as lunch. Besides, I like apples." He was taking his time at it on purpose, she realized, and she tried to hide her smile as she stripped off her clothes. A bath would have been nice but the feel of afternoon air on bare skin was almost as soothing. She heard him coming up behind her and could feel his heat, even through his clothes. He tasted of apples when he kissed her and they barely even managed the last few feet to the bed.

 

She woke what had to be several hours later when she felt her stomach grumbling. The sharp pains reminded her she'd barely eaten anything for breakfast and it had to be late afternoon. Bass opened his eyes when she saw up and smiled sleepily at her when she started putting on her clothes. "I'm starving," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the side of the face. "You want to get up?"

He yawned, rolling over and tilted his face up just enough to say, "No. Unless you need me too."

"I figured I'd go grab something to eat and then come back. You want me to bring you something?"

"It would spare me having to get dressed until tomorrow," he commented and she heard the laughter in his voice. "Works for me."

 

The hostess gave her directions to the bar -- just three doors down from the hotel -- and she spotted a thriving little market set up on the street near it. The colors of cloth, the scents of leather, spices and roasting meat all vied with each other but she spotted Jeremy and Connor coming out of the bar. "Hey," Connor greeted her, his grin teasing as he glanced back towards the inn. "You break Dad?"

"Not much. He just wanted a nap."

"That's probably for the best," Jeremy said. "Him staying off the streets. Just don't," he snapped, glancing between Charlie and Connor, "tell him I said so. If he even thought that, he'd be down here immediately."

"I was just going to get something and head back in myself," Charlie admitted and Jeremy smiled at her.

"Good girl. They have a pretty good stew if you like barley -- which, by the way, Bass doesn't. But they can probably make you a sandwich to take back to him. Connor and I are going to go check the market. You want us to wait for you?"

"No thanks. I'll just eat and head back." They nodded at her and headed across the street as she walked into the bar.

The place had a comfortable feeling that reminded her of Marion's and the pretty woman behind the bar had the same kind smile. The only other patron was a man about Miles and Bass' age with wire rimmed glasses and thick sandy hair. She could already smell the stew which was bubbling on the stove behind the counter. "Can I get a bowl of that, please," she asked, nodding at the pot and the woman drawled, "Of course, honey." She was starting to turn when they both jumped at the sound of smashing glass and Charlie turned to see the man looking embarrassed, the ruins of a mug by his feet.

"Nancy, I am so sorry," he apologized. "I'll pay for it, of course."

"Don't you worry about a thing. Let me just get a broom. Sorry," she said, glancing at Charlie. "I'll just be a minute."

The man hopped off his stool as soon as Nancy had gone rushing out of the room and smiled. "I have always been the world's biggest klutz. My wife has always teased me about it." He stepped around the glass but he had solid boots so Charlie didn't think he was too worried about it and walked behind the counter to ladle her a bowl of stew. She felt herself start to tense but then Nancy came back in and smiled at them both. "Thanks for getting that for her. What is this, your second glass this month?"

"Third," he said, his voice sounding sad as he put the bowl in front of her. "Tammy says she should just get tin camp wear and be done with it. Maybe I should get myself a set for here."

Nancy laughed as she swept up the glass. "Maybe you should." But her voice was clearly teasing and she glanced at Charlie. "Is it okay?"

Charlie tried the stew and smiled. "It's great. Thanks." It was a little hot but the flavor was good, particularly after eating camp-bread, roasted potatoes or whatever game she could catch. "Do you think I could get a sandwich to take with me?"

"Sorry," Nancy shook her head. "I'm all out of bread. . .normally I'd have given you some with your stew. But I had a large group come through earlier that I wasn't expecting. Hadn't planned enough for more than my usual locals." She nodded at the man who was helping her wipe the spilled beer. "I'll be making some more but it won't be ready for a few hours."

"Thanks again, Nancy," the man said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "I owe you for the glass."

"I'll remember that next time I cut myself," Nancy laughed and Charlie looked at the floor to see if maybe there were any glass shards that they'd missed but she didn't see anything. "I can send some stew with you though."

"Nah, just a thought. But thanks."

She'd be able to get something at the market, she was pretty sure. It was hot so she didn't rush and she smiled, watching Nancy humming to herself as she mixed together and kneaded the bread on the back counter. It wasn't a song she recognized and the sound was soothing. She was beginning to feel pleasantly sleepy when she finally pushed herself off her stool and paid for the stew. The afternoon sun was still bright when she walked through the market, wandering aimlessly through the booths.

She had to be more tired than she realized, she decided. It was getting harder to focus on choosing something to take back to Bass and she blinked when she felt everything start to swim in her vision. For an instant she wondered if she was having cramps because her stomach was knotting but then it faded and everything came back into sharp focus. She just needed to pick something, buy it and go back to bed, she told herself firmly but she noticed two women were starting at her oddly. She glanced around to see if there was something behind her to have caught their attention but there was just a stall selling second hand clothes. She'd come out without jacket, she realized, and she felt gaze drop to her own wrist. She may, she reminded herself, have Monroe’s brand on her arm but so did thousands or others and it was not the same as having her name tattooed for the world to read.

But then she noticed the man from the bar walking towards her and her nerves started screaming at the way his not-so-casual glance kept intensifying. Things started to fade again and she felt herself wondering what was wrong with her that she'd let someone drug her stew twice in just a few months and she wondered idly how long he'd been a Patriot. He had seemed so nice. His mouth was moving like he was talking but she couldn't understand what he was saying and she felt herself falling to her knees – her entire abdomen burning – as if he'd shot or stabbed her. She was surprised he would take the time to drug if he was trying to kill but she decided there was no accounting for taste.

 

She knew she dreamed – something screaming and horrible – but it was a merciful blank when her eyelids finally fluttered opened. She was in a bed – not in a prison cell but it wasn't her bed at the inn either– and Bass was sitting by her side, which was meant he’d managed to rescue her while she was unconscious. Again. Either he was making it a habit or she needed to start taking better care of herself.

“Hey,” she whispered and was rewarded by him shifting his attention away from the window. One glance at his face and she knew something was desperately wrong. Not during any of their fights or any time had she ever seen him look more miserable. His eyes were red, like he had been crying a lot and as he reached out to grip her hand she struggled to sit up. The pain in her abdomen had faded but it hurt as she moved.

“Mom? Miles?” Connor, Aaron? It felt like a roll-call and it made her sick to her stomach.

“They’re fine. They’re all fine. You. . .were the one that scared us all.”

She felt the relief wash over her in waves, making her a little dizzy. “Connor, Jeremy, Aaron and Cynthia?” This time she dared to say it out loud.

“They’re okay? They’re at the inn. Your Mom and Miles are downstairs. I’ll. . .let them know in a minute you’re okay.”

She rubbed her hand along her stomach, where she could feel a twinge like a cramp. “What the hell happened? That guy. . .I think he was following me. He was tall, had sandy hair and glasses and –“

“That was Dr. Berwick.”

She relaxed a little. “So was he a Patriot or a bounty hunter?” She wondered what intel Miles had gotten off of the man while she’d been out or if they’d just killed him.

“Neither. He’s a doctor.”

“Well he did something to me,” she snapped. “He was following me and it felt like I’d been shot or stabbed.” She probed her torso but found no bandages. “But I’m guessing he just drugged me.”

“He didn’t drug you.” Bass sounded like he was speaking to a child and Charlie bit back a growl of frustration. “At least not at first.”

“Well he was following me. And clearly, something happened.” She watched the tears forming at his eyes that ran down his cheeks and he made no move to wipe them away. “Bass, something IS wrong.” One of his hands clasped hers and he kissed it.

“You had a miscarriage.”

She felt like her brain stopped working for a moment, the dizzy rush making her glad she was already lying down. “But I’m not pregnant,” she said. He squeezed her hand again.

“You were.”

She shook her head again, wondering if she just kept protesting, if she could make it not real. But it couldn’t be real. “I had a period a few days ago.”

“Remember how light it was. We thought it was because of travel. . .but. . .it happens a lot. It's called spotting.”

“I wasn’t sick. I didn’t. . .but. . . .when?” She closed her eyes. She’d been so good about drinking that terrible thistle tea Rachel had given her every day, no matter what. Except on their trip to Mexico. She’d forgotten it in their packing but it hadn’t seemed important because Bass had been so angry at her.

She thought of the tenderness in the breasts she’d thought she’d bruised herself and the tiredness she’d blamed on having gotten soft but none of it felt real to her.

“Is he sure?”

Bass nodded, his grip on her hand shifting but he didn’t let go of hers.

“I should let him know you’re awake.”

“How long was I out?”

“A day. Not. . .he said you were chalk white and there was blood all over your clothes but you didn’t seem to notice.” She remembered that strange, dazed feeling that she’d dismissed. “You. . .you tried to kill him. No one knew who you were other than he'd seen you in the bar about twenty minutes before. Just that you were fighting like crazy. They finally drugged you to be able to try to treat you.” It was hard to remember the haze of dreams from the equal dimness of reality but she did remember swinging a knife at someone’s throat. “It wasn’t for about an hour that someone figured out the woman we were asking all over town for was the doctor’s mysterious patient. Hang on just a sec.” He rose, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead before walking to the door. “Oh, and we’re Charlie and David Bassett.”

She felt the numbness start to spread as he walked out. She could hear his voice in the next room and several other people’s responses. She pulled her hands from under the thick green quilt and stared at them. She didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry the entire thing didn’t seem real.

Bass came back in followed by the man from the bar, which for some reason made Charlie’s heart thud in panic. “Mrs. Bassett. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said. “Not so much like I’ve been stabbed.”

“Yes, I noticed you had more than a usual amount of scarring but I saw the brand on your wrist so I figured that explained it if you were with the Monroe Miitia.”

She nodded. “That was a long time ago.”

“Of course, Mrs. Bassett.”

“Go ahead and call me Charlie,” she said as he lifted her wrist, feeling her pulse. He nodded but didn’t reply as if he was counting something and he finally laid her wrist back on the bed. He pulled out a stethoscope and listened to her heart and also checked her eyes and tested small pinches of skin to see how fast they went back into place.

When he finished he handed her a glass of water from the dresser and she drank the whole thing in large gulps and he poured her a second from a ceramic pitcher glazed with small pink roses. She sipped it more slowly and he sat in the empty chair. “Charlie, your husband said he told why you were here. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah.” Her throat was feeling less constricted after the water. “I. . .I didn’t know I was pregnant. I was drinking thistle tea and shouldn’t that have stopped it, even if I did miss the dose when I. . . .”

He sighed. “Thistle tea prevents conception, true. In your case it seems to work quite well. Some people have less success but. . .tell me about this missed dose.”

“We’d gone down to Mexico to pick up my cousin. I forgot to pack it but we’d been fighting so I didn’t think anything of it. We weren’t married yet and I thought he was going to leave me. He almost did.”

“Can I assume you made up?” the doctor asked with a smile and she nodded. “Yeah. We did. I remembered about the tea the next day and tried to find some thistle. . .but didn’t see any. I bought some in the next town we came to.”

“When was this?”

“Two days later. About. . .about 36 hours. But I had just finished a period so I wasn’t worried about it.”

He nodded slowly. “I hope you don’t mind I already talked to your mother about that. She told me that you had an extremely irregular cycle due to travel stress. But how many days was this after the start of your period?”

Charlie desperately tried to count days, with Carissa arresting Bass, Jeremy arriving, the quilting, her passing out, the fight with Bass. “Twelve days, I think.”

“Unusual but not unheard of. . .most likely your body attempting to regulate itself started ovulating again immediately. As for the tea, it prevents pregnancy, as I said, clearly very well in your case. But it’s not an abortifacent. It wouldn’t terminate a pregnancy already in progress and with 36 hours to implant, it would take something else.”

“So why. . .why did I lose this one?” She almost didn’t want to ask or even think of it as being real.

His eyes flicked over at Bass. “David, would you mind if I had a few minutes alone with your wife. I can get a nurse up here if that would make you more comfortable.”

Bass rose, kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll go let Miles and Rachel know you’re awake. I didn’t tell them yet.” He glanced over at the doctor. “If you want a nurse, I’ll let one know. But.” He smiled slightly, “I’m more worried about leaving you alone with her than her alone with you.”

The doctor snorted. “Indeed.” He rubbed his left forearm and Charlie noticed a large bruise.

“Did I do that?” she asked as Bass walked out and the doctor nodded.

“You did indeed. Don’t worry, I’ve had worse. Now, from what your family tells me, this was your first pregnancy.” She nodded and he glanced over at the doorway.

“I won’t be sharing any of what we talk about with anyone else unless you ask me to. But was there ever. . . could there have been an earlier one you weren’t aware of?”

“I. . .I don’t think so. My husband wasn’t my first, if that’s what you’re asking. And he knows it. But other than my first, all of them have been since my period stopped.”

She’d been seventeen and he’d been visiting family in Sylvania. It was the first boy her age that she’d not practically grown up with and he’d been sweet. They’d seen a lot of each other during the month he’d been there but it wasn’t until the night before his family had left that he’d kissed her and she had practically torn his clothes off. She’d not thought of consequences until afterwards, when Maggie had seen her sneaking back in and had given her something to drink that had tasted awful – it hadn’t been thistle, she was pretty sure they tasted nothing alike – and told her to let her know if she didn’t get her period. But it had come about a week later, absolutely on schedule.

It hadn’t been until Jason that she’d found another person she was willing to be so vulnerable for. And after him, there had been no innocent wonder in it. She’d been with three different men in the Plains and it had all been about lust and bodies pressed against each other in dark rooms and not even knowing two of their names. Jeff had been the closest to something meaningful; she’d known his name and he’d asked for hers – she’d lied but it was more than the other two cared – and he’d made her breakfast and might have asked her to stay longer.

“Well, if this was your first pregnancy, it sounds like you’re fairly sure it was, often a woman will lose the baby just because her own body isn’t sure what’s happening and sometimes attacks it like a disease. Many times women don’t even realize they’ve had anything other than a heavy period but you were a little further along than most. Based on the bleeding, I would guess about six to eight weeks.” He paused expectantly and she mentally reviewed the days, ticking them off on her fingers.

“Mexico was about seven weeks ago.” He nodded.

“And that’s absolutely consistent. Six weeks is extremely common for miscarriage and it probably just took your body the extra week to go through the process to expel. Which would also be consistent with the darkness of the blood.”

She felt her throat start to close and she knew asking would make it feel real but she needed to know. “Was there . . . did you . . . .” She couldn’t go on but he clearly understood.

“You passed a great deal of clotting, in the first two hours you were here. Far more than a normal period. Enough that it was certainly a miscarriage. But no, I didn’t examine them closely enough to determine which piece was actually the baby.” He paused. “I haven’t disposed of it yet. So if you wish to request an examination. . .but I doubt I’d be able to definitely conclude even if I did. Do you wish me to?”

She shook her head and looked back at him. “You said you hadn’t disposed of them yet?”

“Um,” he twisted his hands together. “Would you mind if we brought your husband back in?”

“No, go ahead.”

He went into the hallway and she could hear his voice mixing with Rachel’s. Bass walked back in and sat down by her head and she cuddled her face into his thigh for a moment until the doctor came back in.

“Now, David, we had talked about disposal of the remains and you said you wanted to wait until Charlie was able to give her opinion.” He smiled at her. “I . . . my wife miscarried her first so I am extremely sensitive about this topic. You have the option to take them with you.” Carting a saddlebag full of bloody rags to D.C. sounded horrific and by look on his face, Bass agreed. “And, of course, burial. But there is also cremation. I have an old copper fire-pit and I have had a number of couples agree to have the rags burned in a small fire. Some even chose to be present. The ashes can be taken with you or scattered. I have a small flower garden that has been used as resting place before.”

A saddlebag full of ashes was better than a saddlebag full of bloody rags but she still didn’t like the idea. “Doesn’t that,” Bass asked, ”make weeding a little awkward?” If Bass wanted the ashes, he could damn well carry them himself.

“By the time there are enough embers hot enough to burn the rags, we might have an ounce of human biologicals to two to three pounds of wood ash.”

“Can we have some time to think about it?” he asked and the doctor nodded.

“Of course. Now, talking to Charlie, this sounds absolutely like a first-pregnancy miscarriage. There is no reason to believe she won’t be able to have other children. I’d advise waiting to resume relations for at least two weeks – longer if there is any discomfort. And you should wait at least a full cycle to try again. But there is absolutely no reason you can’t try again. I’m not trying to minimize your grief – the loss of a child is always sad. But I have no doubt that you’ll be fine parents in your time.”

He was starting to look nervous and Charlie turned to see the way Bass’ jaw was clenching. “Thank you, Doctor.” She said. “Would it be okay if I saw the rest of my family now?”

“Yes, of course.” He seemed almost grateful to get out of the room and Charlie grabbed Bass hand before he could stand.

“Stay,” she whispered and watched his eyes pool with tears again. “Please stay with me.”

He nodded and shifted slightly so she could sit up a little further and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “For now. But Charlotte, later we need to talk.”

Rachel and Miles came in together, trying to joke with her and commiserate and make her laugh while they tried not to cry. Charlie finally just held both their hands as all four of them sat in silence. Miles eventually bent over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’d better go let Connor, Jeremy, Aaron and Cynthia know you’re up. They’re back at the inn.”

Rachel stayed a few minutes longer but Dr. Berwick came back in with some tea for Charlie and she could see her darting glances at the door. “Go ahead, Mom,” she said.“Probably safer if you walk back with Miles anyway.” She doubted her uncle had really meant to go straight back, probably just wanted to give them a few minutes together.

Rachel kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll stop back by after dinner. Let me know if you want me to bring you anything.” She hesitated, glancing between Bass and Charlie and finally sighed. “When I called your grandmother to tell her I was pregnant. . .she told me to not get my hopes up too much. She thought she might have been pregnant but had heavy bleeding after about eight weeks. She both never knew for sure because she never got tested but she was pretty sure she had a miscarriage. I probably should have warned you. . .meant to, when you were ready to try. I don’t know why I kept putting it off.” Rachel sounded like she was about to cry again and Charlie smiled at her.

“It’s okay. I think. . .I think I’m happier not knowing until it was over. Not having to worry. I love you, Mom.”

She sat up a little more to hug Rachel goodbye and was surprised how tired she was but she had Bass help her to the bathroom. Dr. Berwick actually had a flush toilet but Charlie was mostly just glad she didn’t have to walk as far as an outhouse. She wondered idly what he’d done to get around the sewage problem that plagued Gene. Her grandfather had told her that the lines that went to his house were full since there was no longer a pumping system that operated and the several attempts Willoughby had already made to empty them had ended badly so the town had settled into using outhouses until they could come up with a solution that didn’t risk polluting their water sources.

She was exhausted by the time he got her settled back into bed and she wondered how much blood she had actually lost. He bent over and kissed her on the cheek and she grabbed his hand. “Please stay.” He wasn’t looking at her, she noticed. “Bass. Please.”

He glanced down and she saw how hard his eyes were. It should have scared her but she realized she felt relieved. This was a battle she was familiar with and she could deal with General Monroe right now easier than she could her own emotions. “I’ll be back to see you later,” he murmured but she didn’t let go of his hand.

“Bass, please stay with me.” It wasn’t until she said the words she realized how many possible meanings they had.

He pulled his hand away almost casually, not even responding and she let the rush of anger give her the strength to push herself out of the bed. Whether it was from the blood loss or whatever drugs he’d given her, she felt her knees go out but she caught herself on the nightstand and then she was on her feet, adrenaline finally kicking in. He grabbed her in the middle of the room and she pulled herself away from him.

“Damn it, Charlie,” he bellowed. “What the hell are you thinking? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

“I’m not going to die from a miscarriage,” she snapped back. “It’s really sad that we lost a baby and I’m going to have to deal with that once it starts to feel real. But you and I are still alive and I’m not letting you walk away because you’re scared something’s going to happen to me.”

“No,” he shot back. “You didn’t die. This time. But what about next time?”

“You heard my mother. It happened to her mom too. For all we know my great-grandmother went through the same thing.”

“Fine, you carry the next baby to term. What if its breach or eclampsia or you just bleed out? Maybe it’s just safer . . . .” She saw the look on his face and she leaned her forehead into his chest.

“You want to walk away, fine. Do it. Forget that we just got married a few weeks ago. Forget Miles and the fact he loves you. My Mom. Make Connor pick a side of the family.” She stepped back and felt dizzy but she kept upright, even without his support. “Because, yeah, maybe I get pregnant and die in birth. You have no idea how bad I feel that you’ve had to go through this after everything with Shelley. It’s not fair, and I’m sorry.” She choked down the sobs that threatened just even thinking about the next thing she had to say but she forced it out. “So when you check back with the family in a few years and found out I’m with someone else and have a couple of kids, I hope you feel like an idiot and know what you threw away.”

She suspected the look on his face couldn’t have looked more betrayed, even if she’d just pulled out his own sword and stabbed him with it. “Charlotte,” he whispered.

“So I get it. It’s hard for you to go through this again. Now, not even getting into the speech you gave Carissa about realizing that life goes on, I don’t see this is any different. Hell, you’re assuming we all survive long enough to try again.”

She’d gotten through to all of them, she was pretty sure. To Bass, to General Monroe and whoever that other one she had met in New Vegas that he had told Carissa the Patriots would meet if he ever lost Miles and Charlie.

“If I stay, will you go back to bed?” he asked against her hair and she nodded in relief. She let herself slump against him as much in adrenaline letdown and relief as anything else and he wrapped an arm around her to help her the few feet back to the bed. She was already starting to fall asleep as he lowered her back onto the mattress and she felt the reassurance of his body pressed into her side.

She got a grip on his wrist, muttering, “Stay,”against the pillow and he pressed his lips against her hair near her ear.

“I promise. I won’t leave. We. . .we still need to talk but I promise I won’t leave. You fight dirty, Charlotte.”

She lifted her head enough to meet his eyes, “You have no idea. You leave me and I’m having a child with Connor just to spite you.”

“Connor wants siblings, not children.”

“You think I couldn’t talk him into doing whatever I wanted?”

His laugh was the last thing she heard in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

It was dusk when she woke again and the bed was empty. She started to sit up, and but heard the doctor’s voice. “Easy there. Don’t try it all at once.” She glanced over to see him seated in a chair near the door. “I offered to sit with you while your husband and your mother went to see your Uncle and cousin.” She felt dizzy as she tried to sit up and she turned to glare at him.

“That tea. What was in it?”

He laughed. “Very clever. And might I say, you are unusually resistant to it.” He sighed. “I followed you over that market place for nearly twenty minutes, after I drugged your drink before you finally started to show signs of it.”

She sat up straighter. “My miscarriage?”

He shook his head. “As far as I know, you were never really pregnant. I poured pig blood all over your clothes when you were down. No one really noticed –too busy scrambling around. I confess, I thought the boy – the one you call your cousin but I’m pretty sure isn’t really your cousin, was going to be the one to think he’d be the father. Imagine my surprise when it was Sebastian Monroe himself.”

“So why tell me now?”

He sighed. “Because my office is about to be attacked and you’re going to be kidnapped. The good doctor will be dreadfully sorry, of course. But the men who took you totally overpowered me. And since you woke up about an hour before I expected, it’s just easiest so you don’t try to fight or they will kill you.”

“So how long have you been a Patriot?” she asked and he shook his head.

“Miss Matheson, when men come into your house and tell you they think Miles Matheson and Sebastian Monroe are coming through your town and they’ll kill your wife and children if you don’t help them. . .well, you don’t care what political group they support.”

“And this miscarriage. Was that their idea?”

He shook his head. “No. That was mine. As I said, I saw you in the market the day before with the younger man and thought he was the one you were with. The two men who were here. . .well, they said they were going to take you to use as bait for Miles then use Miles as bait to kill Sebastian Monroe.”

“So why weren’t they here earlier. You had Miles, myself and Monroe all in one room.”

“From what I understand, they’ve cast a pretty wide net for you two. I sent them a message and I got note to expect them in about two hours. . . about two hours ago.”

“What do you do if Bass or Miles comes first?”

“Then I shoot them both. I’m sure my handlers would prefer Miles alive but I don’t think they care about the shape Monroe is in. I’ll just have to take that chance.”

“Why tell me at all?” She was honestly curious.

He glared at her. “You guessed. The tea.”

She exhaled, almost a snort. “I guessed you’d given me something but I thought it was because you were just trying to help me rest.”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious, the look on his face would have been comical. His mouth fell open and he gaped in shock, then groaned. “Damn it. I thought you’d guessed that I’d been drugging you the whole time.”

“No. You really are new at this, aren’t you?” He nodded and she grimaced. “So where’s your wife? Did they take her?”

“No. But they said. . .if they didn’t get you. . .they’d kill her.”

Charlie smiled, trying to make herself look friendly and non-threatening. “You do know they may kill her anyway. And you. And the children. Just to get you out of the way. Right now they need Sebastian Monroe dead and maybe even anyone who knows he’s still alive. Which means you. We can help, you know.” He started to look hopeful but they heard a door open quietly and a pair of booted feet on the stairs.

“I’m sorry. But it’s too late for that. They’re here.”

He grabbed her by the hair and she tried to head-butt him but whatever he’d drugged her with had slowed her reflexes and she did manage to get an elbow into his shoulder but by then he had her head angled where she couldn’t move closer to him. He half pulled her out of bed and in front of him. She managed to stamp down hard on her foot and he yelped and she heard Miles’ voice call, “Charlie?” just before the door flew open. Connor and Miles were both in the room and the doctor let her go at the sight of Miles drawing his sword. Connor caught her as she swayed and she half-dragged him between Miles and Berwick.

“Miles, no,” she panted. “He didn’t have a choice. Someone’s threatening his wife. Wait, what are you doing here?”

“Spotted Tom Neville about fifteen minutes ago. Bass led them away from you. We’re here to get you out of here. Didn’t know the doctor was part of it.” He still was staring at the doctor.

“Yeah. That’s what we are doing here. I didn’t have a miscarriage. He drugged me and poured blood all over me so we would all stay in town.”

“So you’re still pregnant?” Connor crowed and she sighed, hating to dash his hopes.

“No.” She felt his arm drop away from her and the sounds of his sword drawing filled the room. She caught one look at his face and wondered that she rarely thought he looked like Bass. In that moment, he was every inch General Monroe’s son.

“So he killed the baby?”

“Connor,” she said, catching his arm. “I was never even pregnant.” She saw his confusion and she used him to steady herself. “If he’d have just drugged me and I’d disappeared, you all would have been suspicious. This way everyone trusted him but we were still tied here. Miles, you’ve got to go get Bass. That’s who Neville wants. Not me. But if Bass sees Tom Neville headed here, he’ll sacrifice himself to try to save me when I don’t need it.”

Connor snorted. “Don’t be too sure about that. You look like hell, Charlie. No offense.”

“Well I’ve been drugged multiple times recently to make me thing I’d lost a baby when I was never pregnant.” She didn’t know why knowing the baby had never even existed made her feel sadder than thinking it had died. She suddenly wondered if that was why the whole thing had never felt real to her; because on some level she had always known there had never been a child. “Miles, please. Go get Bass.”

Her uncle closed the distance between them and scooped her off her feet. “First thing, get you out of here. Connor, bring him with you. Where’s your wife and kids?”

“Visiting her mother. Didn’t want the kids around since that man threatened them in front of me. Couldn’t risk one of the saying anything. But I’m sure he knows where Tammy’s mom lives by now.”

“Yeah,” Miles said. “Probably. But one thing at a time. Now move it, or I stop listening to her and let her son-in-law carve you into the strips he looks like he wants to.”

They went out the front door – Miles reasoned Neville was more likely watching the back – and they got partway back to the inn before Charlie felt hands plucking her out of Miles’ arm and she recognized Bass’ scent before she could panic.

“Charlotte,” he gasped. “Are you alright?” He didn’t even wait for her to answer before he turned to Miles. “And what the hell are you thinking, you idiot, bringing her out into the open like this. Even if you did bring the doctor, she. . . .” he trailed off as Connor waggled his sword, the metal edge reflecting in the light. “Um, what’s with the sword to the doctor’s kidney?”

“Great, thanks for noticing. Good job, Bass.” Monroe clearly caught Miles’ use of his real name and he glanced back at the doctor. “Come on. We’ve got to get back to everyone else. Neville might not know Connor or Cynthia but he could sure as hell identify the rest of us if he saw us.”

Charlie took advantage of Bass confusion to wiggle out of his arms and back onto her own feet. She swayed a little but the night air and time were beginning to wash the drugs from her system and she took the knife he handed her. She wasn’t up to a run but a fast walk attracted less attention anyway and they made it to the rooming house and into Rachel and Miles’ room. Connor went to grab everyone else and she dragged Bass onto the small couch while Miles took over holding a sword around the doctor.

“So what’s this,” Jeremy said as he walked in,“about Tom Neville. Haven’t seen him in ages. Hey Charlie.” He looked a little more subdued. “Sorry about your baby.”

Connor shut the door behind them and Charlie did a quick tally and nodded to herself. They were all there now. She wished she had time to tell Bass alone first but they didn’t have the luxury of knowing who Tom had brought with him. “First, I never miscarried because I was never pregnant.” She ignored the shock on all their faces. “Doctor Berwick was told to keep me there or they’d kill his wife and kids. So no one is going to kill him right now. If he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Not pregnant?” Bass whispered and she squeezed his hand.

“No. I wasn’t.” She wasn’t expecting the murderous rage that he turned to Berwick.

“You fucking son of a bitch. I almost left her to protect her and it was all for a lie.”

“Tom Neville,” Charlie reminded Bass and he stood, the steel ringing as he drew it.

“Oh, I’m going to take care of him once and for all.”

“No,” Miles said softly. “You’re not. Because we all agreed Tom could be useful. You said two men. Was the other one younger. Maybe his son?”

Berwick shrugged. “I don’t know. They never said anything about it. But he was younger. But the older man was black and the boy was white. . .at least mostly white.”

“So they meant to use Charlie as bait for me. And we know who to use as bait for Tom. Bass, stay here with Charlie. Connor, I need you with me since Neville’s never seen you. And you, Cynthia. If you could?” The teacher nodded. “Jeremy, Rachel, Aaron. You guys stay here. Both of them would recognize you two.”

They waited for the better part of three hours. Charlie dozed on and off but she was aware of Bass alternating between pacing and holding her against him. They did still need to talk, she realized, about the fact they hadn’t lost a child but there were too many people around for that and she was glad to get a chance to let the rest of the drugs metabolize.

She heard the door scrape open and Bass was up, swords drawn and the doctor was whimpering but Miles had a blade at Jason Neville’s throat when they walked in. Tom was trailing behind them, Connor covering him with a pistol. Tom focused on Monroe first and the two men faced each other, nearly identical sneers on their faces. “So, should have known you were back with your boyfriend,” Neville snapped.

Jason was just staring at her like he couldn’t believe he was seeing her and despite the knife at his throat he reached a hand out for her. “Charlie.”

She managed a tiny smile before Miles said,“That’s far enough. Rachel, grab a chair for Neville Jr., would you please.” He looked taller than when she’d last seen him nearly a year before. Older. His shoulders were thicker. There had still been traces of a boy when they’d been in Atlanta and she didn’t know if it was the tower or whatever had happened that had finally burned away the last of his innocence.

“So you just bring them back here?” Bass snapped. “Miles, think. You could have just led the Patriots right to us.”

 

“Give me a break and shut up and listen for a minute,” Miles snapped. “Julia wasn’t in Atlanta when it was bombed. She had left and ended up marrying Victor Doyle to survive because she thought Tom was already dead.” The name was familiar but Charlie couldn’t remember from where. Bass also looked blank and Miles signed. “Victor Doyle. President’s Chief of Staff.” That was where she had heard it, Charlie remembered. Carissa’s oldest sister worked for the man and Carissa had told her that he’d married a woman who he’d met since coming back to the mainland.

“He wasn’t the Chief of Staff then,” Neville rumbled. “I killed the first one for her. So her ‘husband’ could get the job. I wanted to cut the bastard’s throat but she had a plan. Then they found out Jason had been stealing intel and then they found out about Julia and I when we tried to rescue them. Unless I bring them Monroe’s head on a plate, they’re going to kill her.”

“Why were you stealing intel?” Rachel asked softly and Jason snorted.

“Because it was obvious they were lying about Foster and Monroe. So I started wondering what else they’d lied about. And then those re-education camps. They put me into one. Made me one of their cadets. Dad broke me out. Then we found Mom but they found us too. He’s not lying.” He turned to Charlie. “He killed your father and your brother. Please, just let us have him and we’ll do whatever you want. We’ll even help you fight them after we have my Mom back.”

“I will paint the town red with Patriot blood,”Tom rasped. “Just as soon as my wife is safe.”

“Except,” Charlie knew her tone was soft. “Jason, Bass wasn’t even there when my father or brother died. In fact, your father was a lot closer to it than he was.”

Jason’s face went slack and then he turned to Bass. “So, what did you do to her to brainwash her into that?”

“No trick. Just her nature to forgive sins. You should be familiar with that.”

Tom was glancing between them and a small smile settled across his face. “Guess you decided you wanted his niece more than Miles after all. Does that it make it awkward? Or do you just do threesomes.” He glanced over at Rachel. “Foursomes? Is that even a word? Stop wasting your breath, Boy. They’re fucking each other.”

She could see the disbelief in Jason’s face and the triumph in Neville’s. “Charlie, tell me that’s not true?” When she didn’t respond he launched himself towards Bass, the chair going with him and he crashed to the floor as Bass sidestepped him. “You fucking son of a bitch, how could you do that to her? And you?”He was staring at Miles. “How could you let him. Knowing. . . .” He stopped speaking, sounding like he was about to hyperventilate and Rachel moved towards him, ignoring Miles’ sharp warning.

“Easy, boy.” Tom’s voice was surprisingly soothing, though his glare at Charlie still promised he planned to kill her if he could. “Just easy.” He was glancing between her, Miles, Bass and Jason and for the first time she thought he actually looked like a father.

She pushed her way to her feet, ignoring everyone yelling her name and knelt on the floor next to him. “Jason? Jason?” It wasn’t the boy she had loved once staring back at her. It wasn’t anyone. He had stopped breathing but suddenly he was back, all the hurt in his eyes that had been lacking a moment before and she reached out to touch his face. He didn’t resist when she pulled the skin back away from his eye and she felt her breath leave her as she saw the numbers tattoo’d there.

“What the hell,” Tom gasped and she suddenly realized he didn’t know what they were or that they were even there in the first place. “Was that –“

“Don’t say it,” she said, rounding on him. “If you say it then it reactivates him.”

“Say what?” Jason asked and she touched his cheek gently.

“You can’t look. We can’t risk you looking. But there are numbers inside your eye. If anyone says them it can reset you to your Cadet programming. And we can’t risk you reading them does the same.”

“Do you remember them doing that?” Tom asked, sounding more stunned than angry and Jason shook his head.

“There’s so much I don’t remember. Or only remember the pain, like the whole side of my face burning. That might have been it. I don’t know.”

“So,” Miles said slowly. “We are sort of at an impasse. You need him to save Julia. And I need him to help me kidnap the President away from the Patriots. So we kill you or you kill us. Or we make a deal. Does whoever sent you know you’ve found us?” Tom shook his head. “Good. Because the doctor there,” Charlie glanced over to see Doctor Berwick shrinking into his corner, trying to look smaller. She’d forgotten he was even in the room. “He drugged Charlie and made her think she had a miscarriage and she’s going to take a day or so to recover from the drugs if I’m right. Then you have a choice, Tom. You can try to kill Bass and hope whoever made you a promise keeps their end of the bargain. Or you help us out and we’ll do everything we can to try to save Julia.”

Jason looked like he might like the idea but Neville shook his head. “For what purpose? For him to betray us all again? No, I’ve seen what he does to his friends.”

“He can be a devil, true,” Jeremy said, stepping out from the corner where Charlie realized he’d deliberately been concealing himself. “But you know what they say. Better the devil you know. And compared to these Patriots, he’s certainly the more stable, even at his worst. And he’s nowhere near his worst right now.”

Charlie watched the shock and disbelief flicker over Neville’s face. “You’re dead,” he finally whispered.

“Just more advantageous for me to pretend it for a while. Sorry, no necromancy involved here.”

“I wish,” Bass admitted, the hint of humor creeping into his voice. “that I could claim to be responsible. But I really did think I’d had him killed. Don’t think I’ve been so glad to be wrong.”

“Jeremy,” Tom’s voice was choked with something and Charlie watched Baker walk over to pat him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Tom. Good to see you.”

 

Neville was looking between the three men and she didn’t think she’d seen anyone so conflicted other than when she had looked in her own mirror when she had first started to forgive Monroe.

“I don’t believe it.”

Jeremy laughed. “Kind of a shock, isn’t it? But hey, we’re back. Welcome to the new order. So, can we count you in?”

Neville was shaking his head but there were tears streaming down his cheeks and Miles stepped up and cut the bonds that bound his hands. For an instant Charlie thought Neville was about to jump Bass but then Jeremy was between them and Tom was letting the Captain embrace him. “Come on,” Miles said. “Rachel, cut the kid loose. Time to add rescuing Julia to this plan.”

“We didn’t come here alone,” Jason said as Rachel started cutting the ropes that still tangled him to the chair.

“I thought you said the Patriots didn’t know you were here?” Bass asked and Neville shook his head.

“They don’t. But we’re also not stupid either. I hired some local muscle from a few towns away. A couple of bounty hunters. Though they don’t know who their real target is. But they have orders if we don’t turn up to find and kill the doctor’s wife.”

Berwick went purple and Miles looked disgusted. “Classy, Tom. And you call Monroe a monster?”

“Figured it would get that niece of yours to cooperate. She always was a bit of a bleeding heart. Besides, a good hostage works every time.” His smile wasn’t nice. “I wonder who I learned that from, Miles.”

“Okay, yes, got it. I’m scum. Come on, Jason. You’re coming with me. Bass, you too. We’re going to go get rid of these guys if we can. . .if not, we’ll kill them. Jeremy . . . tie him back up.”

Jeremy shook his head. “He’s our ally now, Miles. We’re not tying him back up.”

Miles looked like he wanted to argue but finally sighed. “You’d better be right about this.”

Jeremy’s smile was serene. “I am. And if I’m wrong, well.” He glanced over at Aaron who looked horrified. “I’ll have Rachel and Connor with me. Charlie too.” He reached into his waistband to pull a pistol and handed it to Charlie.

Miles glared for a moment but Aaron nodded suddenly and Miles exhaled. “All right, let’s do this.”

Neville looked surprised as Miles, Bass and Jason left the room and Jeremy dropped onto the couch next to Charlie. “He’s taking a pretty big chance,” Neville rumbled and Jeremy shrugged.

‘Yeah, well your son is with them. And you’re not stupid. If Miles and Bass say they’re going to get Julia back, they’ll get Julia back.”

“And after,” Charlie asked as Rachel, Connor, Aaron and Cynthia all found seats. “He’s hated him for a long time. What’s to keep him from killing Bass after Julia’s safe.”

Neville’s grin at her wasn’t even close to being friendly. “Are you really sleeping with him?”

She held up her left hand and his eyes widened at the sight of her ring. “Now that’s unexpected.”

“It’ll be three weeks on Monday.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Nearly three months.” It seemed so much longer. “We didn’t mean to.”

“Like you tripped and he fell. I’ve heard that before,” he mocked.

“No, like Patriots were watching the house and Mom and Miles had to move the ammo we’d gotten smuggled to us. We needed to create a distraction. That. . .seemed to do it.” She decided not to mention that she’d just wanted to get the whole thing over with so she could stop dreading it. “After that, it just seemed the easiest way to keep up the disguise that he was there as my boyfriend. Making it permanent came later.”

“You said something about the doctor thinking making you thinking you’d had a miscarriage.”

“He drugged me and poured pig blood on me,” she snapped and Berwick flinched in his corner but was silent. “You can imagine what that did to Bass.” She watched Tom wince. “So, as I said, what’s to prevent you from deciding to kill him after we’ve rescued Julia.”

His lips curved back into the smile she hated. “So he’s got a soft spot for Miles’ niece, huh. Well, I should have seen that one coming. You know who else as a soft spot for you? Come one, you know the answer to this. My son.” He hadn’t waited for her to answer. “Poor Jason. Imagine how he’ll feel to find out you’re actually married to Monroe. He’ll be heartbroken. Probably out there right now thinking it’s just a phase and he can talk you out of it. And if anything ever happened to Monroe, I’m guessing you’d turn to Jason. He’d even take you back, I’ll bet. Much as I’d love to just kill you,” she watched Connor stir at the way his voice threatened but she waved him back. Tom had always been good at showing his feelings in his voice when he wanted. “I can’t. Because he’d figure it out. And he’d never forgive me for it.” He laughed but she knew he didn’t really think anything was funny. “But as long as that husband of yours –doesn’t that sound odd – is alive, then you’re too loyal to cheat; I’ll give you that. So, much as a personally would love to put a bullet between both your eyes, keeping him alive suddenly just became a priority of mine.” He smiled. “As long as you’re alive, that is.” He sighed. “And since I suspect Jason will blame me if anything happens to you that I could prevent, keeping you alive is important to me now too. Now doesn’t that just suck?”

Bass, Miles and Jason were back within two hours and she could see both Bass and Miles’ palpable relief when they found everyone still sitting up in the inn room.

“Well,” Jeremy asked.

“Told them the doctor had the wrong quarry,” Jason said. “Paid them off and sent them back home. They could have cared less, as long as they got paid.”

“He made them argue for it,” Miles added. “So they didn’t get too suspicious. Pissed them off but they thought they scared him into giving up the money. It was pretty damn good acting.” He walked over the cut the doctor loose. “You’re free to go, doctor. But if you talk to anyone. The locals, the Patriots. Anyone. We will come back. And your wife and your children. . . .” he paused, “will never see you again. And ask Charlie how devastating it is too loose a father. Don’t put them through that. The bounty won’t be worth it and there’s no way they can get us all.”

“I swear,” he gasped and Miles nodded.

“I believe you. Go on, get out of here.”

Berwick paused in the doorway and his lips curved into a smile. “For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. . .about making you think you’d lost a baby. I wasn’t lying when I said my wife lost our first and it was hard. I just couldn’t think of another way of keeping you here.”

Charlie smiled back at him. “Thanks. Now get out of here before one of them changes their mind. And Miles is right, stay away from the Patriots. They’re a nasty bunch.”

He nodded as he shut the door behind him. She could hear his boot steps in the hall – a slow walk – until he was halfway down the corridor and then he broke into a run. Miles grimaced and turned to Tom. “Think he’ll sell us out?”

Neville shook his head. “No. He seemed like a decent family man. And I picked him because I thought he wasn’t likely to report anything to the Patriots on where I was or what I was doing.”

“Do they know where we are?” Jeremy asked.

“No. I was given the orders to kill Monroe and got turned loose. I headed to Texas because of Miles. I wasn’t even sure Monroe was with him until we started getting garbled reports about some warlord in Texas being Monroe, then Texas declaring war on the Patriots for sending a fake Monroe to harass them. After that, I just figured I’d grab Charlie as bait for Miles and use him as bait for Monroe. Knew you too wouldn’t be too far apart.”

“But no one told you about me?” Jeremy asked and Tom shook his head. “Not a word. I. . .I still can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Okay, enough mushiness. Tom, I need everything, and I mean everything,” Miles said, “on what you know about Julia.”

Cynthia, who had been sitting with Charlie, got up to fiddle with trying to hang a teapot in the open heath and Connor flopped down her place, yawning. Charlie was half-aware of Neville talking and Connor glanced at her. “You doing okay?” He looked suddenly worried and started to smile at him when suddenly Jason was squeezing between them. There was barely room on the couch and he ended up pressed against her. Connor’s look turned oddly possessive and she almost laughed at the way Bass glared at them all but he turned back to Tom when she shook her head. “Hey,” Connor snapped, standing and moving to kneel in front of her and take her hands. “Buddy, give her some space here. She’s been sick.”

“No, I’ve been drugged,” she corrected and she grimaced. Connor, she realized, was having nearly the same reaction she had; the odd sorrow that there had never been a baby, even if it had supposedly died. She suspected she would have to remind a lot of people that it wasn’t real over the next few days.

“Yeah. I . . . I’m so sorry about that. You should have seen me when they first told me you’d miscarried. I kept insisting that it couldn’t be true and that it must just be a sign you had to be more careful but you were still pregnant. I know we’ve talked about it but I didn’t realize how much I wanted it to be true till I thought the baby was gone.”

“So,” Jason’s voice was rough, “my father was wrong. Charlie, how could you let me think you were sleeping with Monroe? This guy may be a douche but he’d better than Monroe.”

She gripped Connor’s hands when he tried to stand. Bass’ son had proved with the bandits he could be useful in a fight but she wasn’t sure he was quite up the Jason’s weight. “Enough,” she said softly, aware even Neville was looking at her. “Jason, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us. You have no idea how sorry I am. But they didn’t.”

“But we’re here together now.” He grabbed her left hand and squeezed and he could tell the exact second he felt the ring because he froze, then his head started to slowly shake. His eyes shifted to Connor and she could see the tears in them. “You married him?”

Bass turned to hold up his left hand, wiggling his fingers. Miles hit him lightly in the shoulder and he put his hand down but he was still smirking, Charlie noticed. “Bass, knock it off. At least try to act your age,” Miles growled.

”Wait,” Jason was glancing between them. “If you are really married to Monroe, what the hell is with this guy?”

“She’s my mother.” Connor’s announcement got both the Neville’s attention and Tom’s head tilted in confusion. “Well, step-mother. I’m Connor Bennett and Monroe is my dad. I just found that out about a month and a half ago.”

Tom definitely looked stunned and he started shaking his head. “You didn’t die?” He whipped his head to glare at Miles. “Wait, you’re too old to be Shelley’s baby.”

Jeremy sighed. “This is Emma’s son. Wait, you had already left the Republic when Emma happened. Was he with Georgia yet?”

Miles shook his head. “Nope. I didn’t get stuck with him till after that.”

“Right. That anthrax debacle. “ Jeremy winced. “Okay, you know what, we’re all going to have another storytelling session like we did with Carissa and explain what’s happened in the last year.” He glared at Jason. “Go find another chair.” Jason rose slowly and Jeremy gestured Rachel to sit down. “Now, I’m trusting we can all watch Charlie sit next to her mother without anyone getting our panties in a wad. Right, Lieutenant Neville?”

“Not a lieutenant anymore,” Jason snapped. “I defected.”

“So? Everyone – including him – thought he had me killed and I still call myself Captain Baker.”

“Any of you call me General and you’re getting hit,” Bass snapped and Miles smirked at him.

“Fine, General. Ow.” Bass knuckles had caught him in the shoulder and the two men glared at each other. “You’re such a dick.”

“I warned you.” There was an edge to Bass’ voice that said he wasn’t joking but it was Aaron who stepped between them.

“Really, you two? Do you have to do this again? Maybe we can pretend we have a little dignity? And don’t you dare,” Aaron was using his teacher voice as he glared at Miles, “say he started it. Because you both did.”

She was surprised to see Neville’s glare fading to a confused frown. “Are they,” he asked Jeremy, “like this all the time?” Charlie didn’t recognize the look or the tone for a moment until she realized with a shock it was hope.

“Pretty much,” Jeremy said, sounding tired. “If it wasn’t so cute, it would get irritating. Sometimes still does.”

“They used to be like that . . . when we were putting to Republic together. It was why I followed them,” Tom said and Jeremy smiled.

“Yeah. Me too. I wasn’t lying when I said he’s better now.”

“Well,” Neville’s voice was stronger. “Maybe this might work after all. And if it doesn't. . . .” She watched his face twist. "You let me down again, Monroe, and there won't be a hell deep enough for you."

Bass didn't move but a fey smile played around his lips for a moment. "Fair enough. But remember, last time I had nothing to lose. This time, I do. So betray me again, and I'll make sure you're go with me."

Tom nodded firmly. "Glad to see we understand each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original version of the epilogue, I referenced Charlie and Bass having a miscarriage on her first pregnancy and how it had hit Bass really hard. I decided that -- rather than wait -- I wanted to have it play out in the story. I wrote this scene originally starting with the marketplace where she starts to miscarry and thinks she's been drugged. About the time she started questioning if the doctor had drugged her again to make her rest (which is what he really had done in the first version) I started to wonder what would happen if he was either a Patriot or was working for them. . .and the whole not-miscarriage idea was born. So I started to play with it a little bit and realized I would never have a more perfect way to bring in the Nevilles, who I knew I needed but I was still at a loss how to draw back in. So the entire idea of a miscarriage became a faked miscarriage but it still did what was originally needed by creating a great deal of angst. In the case, the doctor really had no idea that what he was doing was going to create such a reaction -- he was totally ignorant of Bass' backstory and that he couldn't have come up with a crueler idea if he'd have funded a study project (I actually stole that last line from Lois McMaster Bujold's book "Barrayar").
> 
> But as the scenes with the Neville's progressed, I realized there was no going back to the original concept because the interaction with Bass/MIles/Tom and (eventually) Jeremy worked so well. The fact that Tom had stooped to threatening to kill an innocent man's family isn't really who he is. . .but with his increasing desperation to kill Monroe for Julia's sake, I could see him doing that. And really, using Charlie as bait for Miles and Miles as bait for Bass is something that would work (Tom not knowing that he could use Charlie directly against Bass). Yet Tom is famous for switching to the side with the advantage, even if they aren't the strongest and I think he realizes that Bass/Miles are more likely to help him rescue Julia than the Patriots are to fulfill their promises.


	41. Chapter 41

Charlie woke slowly, her neck kinked. At the table, Miles and Bass were packing up the maps and Tom and Jeremy were conversing quietly. She glanced towards the window, realizing dawn was starting to streak outside.

Miles had suggested to her several times that she go to bed but she'd been reluctant to leave the room. She didn't think Tom was likely to turn on them but she also knew he was going to side with whatever was going to keep Julia alive. She could only hope he believed it was them because she'd not been able to predict his loyalty shifts before and wasn't sure she'd be able to now if he decided the Patriots were more trustworthy than Miles and Monroe.

She felt the brush of someone's arm against hers. Connor had been sitting next to her earlier but she knew instinctively -- just by his scent and the sound of his breathing -- that it was Jason. He offered her a tentative smile and she tried to return it but she knew it was a pathetic effort and she watched his face fall. She wished she wasn't constantly left with the feeling he was the puppy she had just kicked.

"We need to talk," he said softly.

"There's a lot of people I need to talk to tonight," she said as Bass said something to Jeremy that she couldn't hear. They'd still not been alone together since she'd found out she'd not actually been pregnant. There had been those few hours where Miles had been out with Cynthia and Connor to grab Jason but she'd mostly slept, whatever the doctor had given her still clouding her senses. "How did Miles end up getting you anyway?"

He sniffed and jerked his head towards the bed where Cynthia and Rachel were both sleeping. They had tried to get her to lay down but -- despite how tired she still was -- she was sick of being put to bed. "That woman -- Cindy?"

"Cynthia," Charlie corrected and he nodded.

"Yeah, that's it. She came up to me and asked if I knew a girl named Charlie because if so she was asking to see me. I was supposed to be watching the back for Monroe but I followed her into an alley and Miles was there with a knife to my throat. Told me that if I did what he said no one would get hurt. Said he'd even take me to you." He snorted, voice betraying his bitterness. "He failed to mention you'd gotten married. I told him about my mother. Begged him to let us have Monroe. Then my dad showed up and that other guy," he jerked his head towards Connor, "told him he'd shoot him if he did anything and Miles said that we all just needed to talk and it would be okay if we came with him. Which is a joke because none of this is okay."

She didn't know if he meant the situation with the Patriots and Julia, the fact she was married to Bass or the entire blackout but secreyly part of her couldn't help but agree with him. She tried to catch Bass' eye but he was leaning close to Connor.

"We'll get your mom back."

"Like you got your brother back? He was dead less than 48 hours later."

"I still got him back." She was too tired to try to explain the gradual realization that she was no better than Monroe. The loss of his family had driven him crazy much like the death of her father and brother had done to her. She'd killed casually too many times, justifying all of it with the excuse she was getting revenge. She wasn't sure now that she had even been wrong, but she also understood how Bass had gone down that road first.

Connor went to wake Aaron who had fallen asleep in the chair near the bed, his head slumped against the wall. Jeremy was rousting Rachel and Cynthia and Miles came over to her. "Everything okay, Kid." She nodded and he grimaced. "I hate to do this but we need to get out of here. We've stayed about two days longer than we'd planned and people will start to notice soon. Wish we hadn't gotten rid of the cart at Keithville."

"I'll be fine."

"Good. Go pack your stuff. I want to leave in an hour. You have horses?" The last was directed at Jason.

"Two and a pack horse. "

"Good, we won''t have to buy you any. Charlie, you need help getting packed?"

"I got it," she said. 

Charlie crawled off the couch, feeling like every joint in her body was working separately. Dozing sitting up had seemed like a good idea at the time but she was stiffer than she realized and she stretched, trying to slide everything back in place. She needed a good shoulder rub, she decided. The kind that Bass had once-upon-a-time seemed to enjoy bestowing. She’d heard Aaron joke about people changing after the wedding but she’d was pretty sure it would take neither of them counted on the fact she was pretty sure he'd be wary of even touching her for a while.

Jason was hovering, she decided, looking like he was trying to work up the courage to either touch her or talk to her and she smiled at him. “We will talk. But not now.”

“You need help packing.”

“Nah, I got it. Just throwing. . .my stuff into my bag. It’ll just take a minute.” She’d almost said ‘Monroe and my stuff’ she realized. Part of her decided to edit it out because she didn’t want to rub it in his face that they were together. The other part of her had edited because she had been about to call him Monroe and she hadn’t called him that in months. It was habit, she realized. Being with Jason was triggering reflexes from their time fighting together for Georgia.

She felt a flash of guilt that she ruthlessly suppressed. Bass might not be her enemy any longer; the journey into madness had been partially her own family’s fault and a naïve twenty-one year old girl had been a good deal more black-and-white about how she saw the world and the people in it. But he really had been insane at one point -- and while she would do things different now if she could go back – at the time it had seemed like the only option and she couldn’t fault herself for the choices she had made, even if she wouldn’t pick the same ones again.

Jason had been a large part of that life. They’d chosen to go their own ways at the Tower but she had no reason to feel guilty that they still had some kind of – bond was the wrong word she decided but possibly resonance might be more apt.

Bass was talking to Tom now and she took a deep breath, trying hard not to grimace, forcing her breathing to slow. She thought back to when he’d avoided her after she’d found out about him and Rachel but she’d also allowed him to do it rather than confronting her directly.

Something crossed Jason’s face that she couldn’t identify but his smirk was almost needling. He was glancing over at his father and Bass then back to her. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” She wasn’t used to snide from him, even if she privately admitted he had almost earned the right. The whole situation was hard on her too and she had never loved him like he had her.

“Not all of us can have marriages like your parents,” she said, keeping her voice even but she could tell that arrow had hit home as surely as if she had fired it from her crossbow. “I wonder if your step-father appreciates her as much as your father does.” The last might have been a bit much, she realized, watching his face turn hard. 

She felt someone at her back and she turned her head to see Connor glaring at Jason over her shoulder. “Everything okay, Charlie?” he asked, his voice tight and she glanced back over at Jason. He was glaring at her with the same kind of disgust she’d previously seen him reserve for his own father.

“I’m fine.” It was a stock answer to any questions – a failure to admit she needed help but she inhaled slowly, realizing it wasn’t the lie she had thought it was when she had uttered it. “I just need to go talk to your Dad. Why don’t you and Jason help. . . Cynthia.” She almost smiled at the look on their faces; both of them no doubt surprised by her reaction. She’d almost suggested they help Rachel but Cynthia seemed a much safer choice for Jason.

She squared her shoulders, feeling her stomach knot even walking up to Neville but she forced herself to smile at him as pleasantly as she could. “Bass, I’m headed to go pack. I really need to talk to you and now’s probably about the only chance we’re going to get.”

He glared at her, an almost savage sneer that felt like he’d hit her upside the head and she wanted to step back but she didn’t move and after a moment the mask slipped and the anguish in his eyes made her heart hurt. “Can we wait,” he said, his voice not quite even. “Charlie, please.”

She remembered the night he’d killed Adam’s partner and she was striking at him with a pipe she’d scooped up while running. He’d been begging her to stop and at the time she’d not really heard him. Later – after he’d escaped – she’d consoled herself with the fact he’d been worried she would be able to hurt him. It wasn’t until later that she realized it was because he didn’t want to hurt her. He had almost the same tone now and she realized that neither of them would come out ahead if she forced the issue. But as if realizing he owed her something he leaned in and kissed her on the top of the head, one hand moving to her arm. He was forcing the gesture, she could tell, but he was trying and she decided that was enough.

Tom was staring at them both like they were insects but she thought there was a grudging admiration behind the hatred. Bass wasn’t the only one, she decided, that she needed to force herself to talk to.

“You have to admit,” she said, knowing her smile had gone as snide as Jason’s had, “there is a certain irony in this.”

“How’s that?” His tone said he was going to disagree with everything she said but she could also tell from the wariness in his eyes that she was unnerving him as much as he was her and it may have been petty but it made her feel better.

“There you were -- a loyal member of the Militia -- and I come along and ruin everything when Jason defects and now here we are again and this time it’s me and Bass on the same side.” She paused just long enough that he looked like he was about to say something. “Then again, you probably blamed his defecting on me rather than looking at the real reason. You. I think he was ready to find any other way that yours. I just showed him one.”

“Wish you’d have started on showing me that better way at first,” Bass said, and she suddenly realized how tired he really was, even if he was fighting not to show it. She wanted to move closer to him but he shot her a warning look. He didn’t actually step away from her but she got the message clearly. He was fighting himself hard – trying to act sane and okay for Neville when he was skirting the edges of anything but. 

“I’d have thought you were too old for me if I’d have met you earlier,” she deadpanned and was rewarded with nearly a flash of a smile. He’d always been worried about her age but she was fairly sure that compared to thinking he’d lost another child, a smaller issue might be a welcome relief. Except she was him glance towards the door Jason had left and she nearly slapped herself in the forehead that she hadn’t seen it before. She had always assumed he cared about her age because he was worried about her being younger and more immature but she realized he had probably been scared she’d eventually leave him for someone younger.

Tom was watching her closely and she forced herself to stare back at him. Uncharacteristically he broke eye contact first. “Well,” she said, turning towards the door. “I’m going to pack.” She felt a flash of triumph as she stepped away, separating herself from them, aware they both watched her as she walked out the door.

Going into their room, she wondered for a moment if someone had searched it. Both their packs had been dumped on the bed, the contents mixed randomly as if someone had been pawing through it. Bass, she realized abruptly. Probably looking for something for her when he thought she’d miscarried.

It would take time to get everything sorted between them and she shrugged, flipping both packs open and randomly shoving contents inside. They could resort later. She didn’t want to even think about clinging to his things was her substitute for clinging to him. 

 

Connor came up to help her carry the bags down and she let the landlady fuss a bit over her, biting the inside of her mouth so hard it bled when the woman teared up, saying how sorry she was about the baby. Charlie tried to look appropriately sober. She almost did tear up herself when the woman scolded Bass and Rachel both for letting Charlie out of bed and even offering to give them free rooms in case they were leaving just because they couldn’t afford to stay longer.

Charlie could see the stricken look starting on Bass’ face and she tried to smile gently, ashamed she didn’t actually know the landlady’s name.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “And we have family we’ve promised to meet. We’re already a few days late and I’d hate to miss meeting up with them. These days, it’s so hard to arrange.”

The landlady nodded. “I do understand that, dear. But are you sure you’re alright.”

“I promise,” Charlie told her, smiling a little, even though she just felt tired and cold. It was barely light. “Doctor said it was just fine.”

“Well if Doctor Buright approves.” The woman looked slightly more cheerful and Charlie didn’t flinch away when the woman hugged her. She’d tolerated them coming and going at all hours and according to Miles had charged them only half of what he had figured they had owed when he had checked out.

Charlie finally got on her horse and settled into the saddle, reaching down to absently stroke the gelding’s shoulder. Jeremy and Connor had gone out early with Tom and Jason and Charlie felt herself start to grow tenser until they got to a grove of trees about a mile outside town where she could see four horses and their riders clustered near the road. Jeremy, Connor, Jason and Tom joined what Charlie heard Miles grumble about being something called a gaggle-fuck. She was used to their riding in pairs but Miles had apparently decided that a large group would just be mistaken for family and Cynthia took up the story, deciding that Tom and Jason were Tim and Jacob Parker.

“If the Patriots are looking for you,” she announced, “they won’t be looking for you to be part of a large group. Besides, what if you’re not father and son?”

“What do you mean?” Tom snapped and Charlie though Jason looked interested for a moment but it faded. He’d been unusually subdued since he’d ridden into the group.

“I mean, people are expecting you to be father and son. But what if he’s not your son.” Miles looked like he was about to spit but Cynthia didn’t even look at him. “Maybe Jeremy was married to your sister and she died of influenza.”

Jason looked doubtful but Connor grinned at him. “Hey, at least you aren’t pretending to be his lover. How long did I keep that up?”

“Long enough to be useful,” Jeremy commented. “And don’t worry. . .Jason might possibly be my type. But could you imagine the in-laws.” He shuddered delicately. “My mother-in-law alone would drive me to drink.”

That actually surprised almost a smile out of Neville. Whatever had happened after the tower had nearly broken him too, Charlie realized. Despite their past and the fact she blamed him far more for Danny and Ben’s death than she did Bass, she could empathize with him thinking his wife was dead for half the year and only learning she wasn’t because he had ran into her with another man. 

“I still think we should split up,” Tom complained and Miles glared at him.

“We discussed that. At length. And quite frankly, as big a problem as these Patriots might be, I’m more worried about you in the next few days than I am about them. Unless that group we surprised a few days ago near Keithville had a mission that was requiring them to report in. But even then. . . .”

“Keithville?” Neville started looking very interested and Charlie felt her stomach sink a little. Neville’s interest was very rarely a good thing.

“Yeah. Had a run-in with the same guy that set up Willoughby to be softened up. I was going to try to arrange to get him sent back to Texas as additional proof but he had a cyanide tooth and offed himself while we were trying to clean up the area. What do you know about it?”

“Just that the last time I reported in about a month ago that there was some doctor hanging around the border waiting for Rachel Matheson but that he’d headed up to the area to try to catch some monkeys that were rumored to be in the area because he was sick and trying to find a cure for himself.”

“Doctor Horn?” Charlie asked and Neville shrugged. 

“I wasn’t really paying much attention other than he thought Rachel was coming through the area. . .so I was laying bets on Miles slipping through a Patriot net and me grabbing you.” He jerked his head towards Monroe, who Charlie noticed was riding between Rachel and Connor. “Granted, I didn’t realize I could use you as bait for him directly. Though I’d have to rely on his man crush on Miles.” His voice had gone a little snide and she realized he was trying to needle her. She bit her lip then realized Miles had already heard her and Bass arguing over him.

“Makes us a good pair. We both have a bug in our brain about Miles so it works out alright. . .at least neither of us gets jealous.” Which wasn’t specifically true. Miles as the metaphorical third-wheel in their relationship had its own set of issues that they would have to address one day but that was between her and Bass and neither of them could exactly blame Miles for that.

Neville’s mouth had fallen open and Miles had his forehead scrunched in surprise. But if she had been wagering on it, she would have guessed that he was only surprised that she was admitting, not that she felt it.

“Thank you, Charlie,” Miles drawled when he recovered enough to lower his eyebrows back to their normal position. “Way to make an awkward conversation even worse. Now he’s going to think I’m sleeping with you, as well as Bass and your mother.”

“Yes, glad to hear,” Neville drawled, “that you and your sister-in-law got together. Thanksgiving weird?”

“You are such a dick,” Miles sighed and Charlie laughed. 

“What, it’s not like you didn’t know.”

“True, but I was really happy pretending I didn’t.” He sighed as he glanced back at Neville. “Well, there’s no way to make any of this sound anything but bad. . .so I won’t even try.”

For a moment she though Tom was going to say something nasty but he finally shrugged. “Well, much as I wish I could talk, I’m married to a woman who has a second husband now. And my boy’s got some sort of tattoo on the inside of his eye – what sort of fucked up thing is that – which makes him turn on his own family to follow these bastards.” She almost quipped that it hadn’t taken a tattoo to make Jason turn on him but it was one of the first time she’d heard Tom admit he wasn’t perfect and she bit the inside of her lip so hard she tasted blood. He must have noticed her look because he glared at her. “Go ahead, Miss Matheson. Say it. I brought this all on myself.”

It would have felt so good, Charlie realized. To tell Tom Neville what she really thought of him and how he had ripped her family to pieces. But she glanced around the spread out group; to Rachel, Miles, Bass, Jason, Jeremy and Aaron. All of them – no matter how indirectly – had played a part in ripping apart more than just her family and she had been right there with them all. Connor, she realized, and Cynthia, were really the only two who were blame-free in the disaster they had contrived to bring together among them.

“Why bother?” she said. “Because then we’d have to debate the merits of your character with Miles, Bass, Dad, Mom. Me.” She shrugged one shoulder, sneaking her fingers down the edge of her leg to brush at the warm fur near Blaze’s mane. She hadn’t thought of herself as someone who used touch for comfort but it was surprisingly reassuring.

Tom’s face had gone sober and he quirked one corner of his mouth. “You remind me of your brother, you know. Never doing what I expected. Must run in the family.”

Her first impulse was to scream he wasn’t even allowed to thing about her brother but she remembered the conversation she’d had with Bass about the time Danny had spent with Neville and she realized it might be the only time she might get the chance to hear about those missing weeks. She’d adapted to having Bass – who she’d once blamed – talk about him. She could, she told herself firmly, eventually come to think that same about Tom Neville.

“Tell me about Danny,” she said, hearing her voice crack. “Bass had told me what was in your report but there had to be a lot you left out.”

She was surprised to see the sudden sympathy in Neville’s eyes, as if for once they actually understood each other. Seconds later it was gone and his voice was sarcastic, but she didn’t even try to stop the tears as he snapped, “Well, for one thing, you’re brother was a pain in the ass. But not nearly as bad as you were.”

 

It took Tom nearly an hour to finish telling about the trip from Sylvania to Philadelphia. Charlie didn’t even bother to try to hide the points when she cried. Rachel rode close beside her, expression completely blank but Charlie could tell she was drinking in every word.

After she’d started travelling with Monroe she’d shifted all the blame for Ben and Danny’s death to Neville. But glancing around the people riding with her, she forced herself to breath slowly. They all had played a hand in it. Rachel, Miles, Bass, Neville, Ben; even her. Danny had always followed her into things and she'd been too blind to know when to quit.

The Rebel's hadn't been totally wrong. Bass had been crazy. But she hadn't seen more of the world by then to know what worse was out there. 

She’d forgiven Miles. She’d forgiven Bass. And she had a terrible feeling that by the time they were done, she might even have to forgive Tom Neville. He’d gone insane, she realized, like Miles and Bass had. Trying to protect his wife and son, he’d become a monster, because only a monster could have protected them from what came after the blackout.

Part of her wished Miles had chosen to ride past Delhi and they’d missed Tom entirely. She was tired of forgiving people.

Rachel was asking Miles a question and she put a knee into her gelding’s side, veering him slightly over towards Cynthia. They exchanged smiles and Cynthia reached out to touch Charlie’s arm but didn’t speak, which she was grateful for since the last thing she wanted to do was talk.

 

She half-slept as she rode, knowing Blaze was going to stick with the other horses. Her perception was a mix of what she was seeing and snatches of dreams but she woke up totally when a fly landed on her arm and she slapped it reflexively away. 

Blaze was ambling along, side-to-side with Badger and she yawned, smiling slightly when Bass glanced at her. He’d been riding as far away from her as he could when Tom had been talking and she smiled slightly. “Guess my horse wanted to be next to your horse,” she said, feeling a pang when she remembered the day they’d ridden out of Willoughby together and her horse had gotten upset at leaving Miles’ horse. That had been just a few hours after they’d gotten married.

One side of his mouth twitched and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing. But Blaze and Badger had clearly gotten used to each other. They were towards the back of the group, no one else really close to them and she sighed. “I get that you’re not ready to talk about it yet. But I need to know that we’re going to be okay eventually.” 

His eyes crinkled just a little as he reached out to grip her hand. “I did promise I wasn’t leaving. I just. . .need some time. I know I told Carissa I’d be okay if something happened to you. But I’m not so sure I would be.”

“You’re going to need to be. They need you. More than you need me. Mom and Miles. Connor. You told him if you’d have known he existed you’d have been there for him. How bad would it be for him if – now that you two are together – you go and kill yourself because you can’t handle me dying?”

She was pleased that he snuck a guilty-looking glance over towards where his son was riding with Jeremy and Aaron.

He pulled her hand up to his cheek and touched it to the rough stubble for a moment. “It was like living my nightmare all over. Knowing that I had this curse that everyone I love leaves me.”

“Is the inverse true?” she teased. “Would you be stuck with Tom and my mother for the rest of your life?”

He actually laughed and pulled her hand back over to kiss her palm. “I’ve accepted that Rachel and I aren’t getting rid of each other. I’ll even put up with Tom and Jason if I have to.”

“The things you do for me.”

His sobered face was enough to quench her smile. “No. It’s more like the things I do without you. “

“General Monroe pressing hard lately?”

She watched the misery flooding his eyes. “You have no idea. When I was him I just wanted to be Bass again. And right now I’m almost wishing I could detach. Not forever. Just. . .never mind. It’s stupid.”

She felt her stomach clench into a knot and she wanted to throw up what little bread she’d eaten for breakfast. He actually wanted be General Monroe to help himself cope and what wanted to make her throw up wasn’t that he was thinking that way but the possible alternative.

Bass had been broken after his parents and sisters died and again after Shelley. Each time had been another bullet to an already mortally wounded man. The General had been a bandage that had festered such a noxious infection on the surface but had somehow allowed the man beneath it to heal.

She would hate doing what it took to bring him back out again. Yet she wasn’t sure the alternative was worth losing another piece of Bass when she had something that might stop it.

She snuck a quick glance at Tom and Jason and the twisting nerves in her gut churned. It would be a balancing act; between helping him over the worst of his resurrected nightmare and yet not letting it get so far that Tom would be plunged back into his.

She glanced over at Miles, wondering if he might be able to help her with it but her eyes drifted past her uncle to Jeremy; who had once told her she had an unusual ability to read Bass and know what he needed. No, she realized, Miles had enough of his own guilt to carry regarding Monroe.

But the man who had cataloged all of both their moods – even if his own self interest had clearly been a motive – would probably be a good ally in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry there was such a long wait for such a short chapter and it ended up being mostly a transition chapter at that. . .but the truth is I have been in training to deploy to Afghanistan and I have been a combination of crazy-swamped where I haven't had time to write and no internet access (in case anyone wonders why I haven't been commenting on their fiction.
> 
> So here's the deal. . .I will be in the U.S. training for another month and I am really hoping to finish this before I go but I am not certain how much longer it will take (remember how I tried for nearly 20 chapters to get them out of Willoughby?). Granted, I have a plan to expedite them getting to D.C. (trains) but first they have to make it to Georgia to catch that train but they've got about 13 days of travel first through Patriot Territory. I hope to be able to exploit that travel time.
> 
> The problem with finishing is going to be a combination of time and internet access. I will have internet at least part of the time but the military servers won't let me on AO3 and I am not sure the "morale" ones will either.
> 
> But I will still be writing and should have access to email pretty regularly so ImLuvinMyThesaurus has kindly volunteered to post things for me (she'll have the password to my account). If I really can't get into AO3, I won't be able to reply to comments. But I will still be able to read them and that is the main thing (I LOVE comments. . .if it hadn't been for all the requests for updates, I probably wouldn't have written most of it yesterday and posted it today).
> 
> I'm really hoping to still be able to access AO3 this year but if I can't, I'll have a bunch of stories to catch up on when I get back next year. And as I said, getting stuff written may be a little slower right now. . .but as I've said many times. I have and ending and an epilogue built and I am looking forward to everyone else getting a chance to read it to see if they love it as much as I do.
> 
> Please keep commenting.


	42. Chapter 42

"Charlie, are you trying to drive him crazy?" Jeremy hissed, glancing around the campsite they'd set up. She could tell his gaze stuttered on the Neville's, both of whom were over near the horse lines. "And what about them? Do you want one of them to decide he hasn't changed and a bullet is just the easiest solution after all?"

"So what about when breaks again? And I mean breaks for real. He's nearly there." It wasn't until she said the words that she realized she was hoping he would disagree with her but he glanced over at Bass talking to Miles and she saw his shoulders slump. "If I'm wrong, tell me." She felt her own face fall when he didn't say anything.

"You're going to have to be really careful with this. You know that, right?" She nodded, feeling the knot choking in her throat and one of his arms went half-around her. "Hey, you okay?"

It was his softer tone and the concern in his face that broke her. She had thought that she had managed to get through the whole situation mostly-unscathed but she realized she'd done nothing more than hold in everything from the grief of thinking she'd lost a child, to the anger that the whole thing had been a set-up; the fear of watching her marriage fall apart and trying to be strong for everyone else around her.

"Hey," Jeremy said in a completely normal tone, though he was a little loud, "come help me get some firewood." No one even looked over at them as they walked out of the campsite, the tears dripping down her cheeks and splattering against her shirt. Ahead of her, Jeremy was stacking fallen limbs into small piles but keeping them headed away from the campsite.

They had walked for nearly ten minutes, well out of earshot, when he found a fallen tree and sat down on it, patting the place next to him. He wrapped an arm around her as she dropped onto the moss-covered bark and the quiet sniffles gave way to racking sobs that surprised her that such sound could come from her. She hadn't even cried so hard, she thought, when Danny had died and that made her cry even harder.

She was vaguely aware of Jeremy's chin resting against the top of her head and that he was rocking her slightly. It was the emotion she hadn't dared express around Bass ever since she had thought she had lost their baby and that brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

She wasn't sure how long they had sat there, but eventually the need to blow her nose got her up, searching for a handful of dried moss. The crumbled duff mixed with a little leftover snot stuck to her nose and upper lip and she eventually gave up and just wiped what was left on the hem of her shirt. "Sorry," she muttered and he shook his head.

"Don't be. What you've been through the last few days. . .I can't even begin to imagine what that would be like. And you've kept it together for him too."

"For all of them. Bass, Connor, my mother and Miles. I don't want them to think. . . ."

"Think what? That you're weak?" She started to nod and his snort wasn't quite a laugh.

"Charlie, you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. the fact that you can deal with Miles and Bass both and somehow keep them both sane? Hell, that's far more than I could ever do. And to do that on top of everything else you're going through? Hell, you're volunteering to let Bass be the person who you hate because you think that's best for him."

"I don't fear General Monroe any longer." She'd stopped being afraid of him a long time before but she'd not realized that she'd even stopped hating him until she spoke. "I really think he's Bass' best chance of getting through this. Because I saw what the Tower did to him. No one else did. Not Mom, not even Miles. Just me. And that man that I found in that fight tent in New Vegas didn't care what happened to him any longer. If I hadn't come along and gotten tied up in that pool next to him? I don't even know that he'd have tried to escape."

He'd told her later he'd found a broken piece of tile and used that to cut his bonds but when she'd first found the pool he'd been asleep, tied standing up. If he had known there was a possible escape route available via the tile, she wasn't sure why he was still there, unless he hadn't been trying. Once she'd arrived, that was different. She'd have alerted Adam and his partner the instant she'd thought he was trying to get loose so she knew why he had waited once she was there. But there had to have been multiple hours before he even knew she was on his trail and hadn't even tried to saw through his ropes.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder. It was solid and one of his arms patted her awkwardly on the back. "Bass may try to be suicidal sometimes but he never actually manages to follow through with it. You're right, this is breaking him but we'll be able to put him back together again. I've seen him worse, I promise. Like the day he thought he had me executed."

She saw up so she could straddle the log, facing him. "Okay, that's true. But he's been willing to leave me before and he nearly is now too."

He looked surprised. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. He thinks he's doing it to protect me. Before we knew the miscarriage was fake. . .I knew if he walked out the door I'd never see him again."

"What did you say? It's been my experience that when he's really that bad, nothing gets through to him."

She snorted. "I told him I'd have kids with Connor just to spite him. He told me I fought dirty but he also didn't leave." Jeremy's half-smile was heartening and she felt more assured for a moment, but then she grimaced. "Still, I wasn't expecting to add the Neville's into it. I know that's got to be killing him too, given Jason and my past and just the fact Tom can't be trusted."

"Tom can be trusted. To do what he thinks is most likely to protect Julia. Let me worry about Tom. . .he's always had a bit of a soft spot for me; likes my sense of humor or something. Maybe it was because Julia found me amusing. I played into her hand a time or two just so she'd think I was a useful tool to keep around. She makes up in cunning, ruthlessness and ambition what she lacks in brains and that's usually a very bad combination but she doesn't lack for brains very much so I was careful to keep on her good side. In fact, of all the Militia-wives who were plotting, she was about the only one who was nearly as smart as she thought she was so I usually considered her the most dangerous. Never underestimate a woman trying to look out for her family and especially that one. I always wondered," he sounded a little sad, "what those two would be capable of if they thought they had nothing to lose."

"I'd rather not find out," Charlie said firmly. "But other than keeping Tom and Jason away from Bass. . .and I'm not sure how I'm going to do that."

"Oh, that's easy. Just make them all think you're not comfortable around Jason. Perfect excuse to keep Bass away from them. But just out of curiosity, how to you intend to get him to be General Monroe? It's not like a switch you can just flip. Is it?"

"Nope. But I have a few ideas." He looked impressed and she sighed. "I just hope I don't make it worse."

They came back to camp with full armloads of wood to find a small fire burning and a brush pile next to it. "Hey," Miles said, his voice a little sarcastic. "Took you two long enough. Was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

"I just needed a break," Charlie said, aware her voice was just edging into bitchy and he looked started but she brushed past him to drop onto the ground next to Bass, though she was careful not to touch him. He didn't look at her and for once she forced herself to ignore him too, pulling out her knife and a sharpening stone, letting the rhythmic scree sooth her, though she was aware from the set of his shoulders it was putting him on edge."

Jason was helping Rachel slice bread nearby while Tom and Aaron were portioning out from their stock of dried meat and she turned to smile at Cynthia. "How are you doing with the riding?" They'd covered barely 30 miles that day, aware that Miles was trying to take it easy on everyone.

"Just fine. Pearl is such an easy ride. I feel sorry for Aaron because Quaker lumbers but he doesn't seem to be doing too badly either."

"Glad to hear it. She does have a nice gait, doesn't she?"

"Makes me wonder what her breeding is; maybe some Tennessee Walker in her background. Oh," Cynthia explained at Charlie's questioning look, "I was horse-crazy as a kid. Knew all the breeds by heart and saved up every penny for model horses or the rare chance to go horseback riding. I remember thinking that was the one good thing about the Blackout. . .that I got to have a horse of my own finally. I wanted an Arab Stallion and a Palomino mare. . .now breeds aren't something we really consider much anymore."

Rachel brought her over the bread and jerky and she took it, trying not to look like she was listening to Bass' muttered thanks or notice the way Rachel hesitated, like she was going to say something to him then appeared to change her mind. Cynthia watched them openly, her eyes flicking back to Charlie in puzzlement, but she took the sandwich Jason brought her and smiled at him before he hastily retreated back to where Tom was wrapping his own rations together and veering to a fallen log about 10 paces away from the fire.

They ate in silence -- even though Connor tried to start a playful argument with Miles and Rachel; he quit after just a few of his attempts were not reciprocated. "I've got first watch with Jeremy," Charlie finally said, her voice not particularly friendly. Bass looked at her in surprise and she shrugged, not smiling but also not glaring at him. "Figured you and Connor hadn't seen each other for a while. . .probably he's got a lot of questions." She did glare at Connor when he looked about to protest and he shrugged, his face puzzled.

"Tom, Jason, why don't you take the next watch?" Miles said. "Bass, you and Connor can go after that; then Aaron and Cynthia. Rachel and I can finish it off."

"You're going to trust us together without supervision?" Tom said, his voice a little mocking.

"You haven't given me a reason not to trust you," Miles told him, his voice mostly patient but edged with irritation. "Unless you're telling me now I shouldn't. We're all on the same side now."

Jason's look seemed to argue that point but Tom just turned back to the fire, his face twisted in an emption she didn't think she wanted to analyze.

Charlie waited until Bass had spread his blankets before taking her own bedroll over to a spot between Miles and Aaron. Bass came over, looking down at her bedding then over to his own. She kept her voice quiet and even, reaching her hand out to touch his wrist before she dropped it so they weren't touching. "You said you needed time. I understand that. . .I really do. But I can't do half-measures very well. So no, I'm not going anywhere. . .and when you're ready, I'll still be here. But till then, maybe space would be best for both of us."

He barely glanced at her as he shrugged. "Maybe you're right." He gave her a tiny smile before he walked away but it was no different than the type he'd seen her give to random people he didn't really care about and she turned before he could get a good look at her eyes. She wasn't sure if he felt like she'd taken a knife to his heart. . .but it certainly felt like she'd taken one to her own.

Jeremy kept any conversation during their watch shift light but Charlie saw him watching her more than normal. He was worried about her, she realized, and she appreciated it. If it hadn't been for the fact she was reasonably sure there were still people awake she would have gotten back into some of their earlier discussion but she wasn't totally sure she would be able to without breaking down again, though after her earlier cry she felt a little less like she was being pulled in multiple directions.

Bass had laid down soon after they'd finished dinner but she was pretty sure he had faked sleep for nearly an hour. But he had been too unnaturally still for too long, his back to her. She was watching him so she was pretty sure when he really did fall asleep because he had reached out and tried to pull her towards him. He'd seemed agitated until Jeremy stood up and put his own pillow out for Bass to grip.

"You're not getting that back tonight," Charlie whispered and he shrugged.

"I can use my pack. I'm sure he'll drop it on me when it's his shift. . .unless he keeps it for when he goes back to bed."

She smiled slightly but she wasn't sure Jason was really asleep so she settled back, staring at the fire.

"You know what I miss most right now?" Jeremy sighed. "Marshmallows. Who'd have thought I'd have ever had a campfire without smores."

Charlie vaguely recalled eating them but not what they had tasted like. She couldn't remember going camping when she was a child but she did remember roasting marshmallows once when visiting Willoughby when she had been five or six. "If you had to chose between smores or alcohol?"

"That's a tough one. I'd probably keep drinking but I'd always regret it. You?"

"Alcohol. It's hard to miss what you barely remember. Besides, I'm a Matheson. I think there's some kind of written rule about that." He snorted but smiled.

"Actually, I don't see you or Miles drinking that much. Oh, sure, he still has his bottle. . .but I don't see him with it nearly as often as I used to. As to rules? Well, depending on what our future holds, I might just need to that to be a law on the books. Then again," he glanced over to where Miles and Rachel were curled next to each other, even though the only thing touching each other was their shoulders, "your mother might gut me for that."

They lapsed into a semi-companionable silence for a while until Jeremy nudged her shoulder, dropping his voice.

"So you and young Neville talk yet?"

She shook her head, glancing at Jason's back. "No," she murmured back.

"No chance you're going to change your mind on that, is there?"

"What, you wondering if you might need that bullet for Bass after all?"

He shrugged. "I've kind of wondered if this whole fantasy thing I've been living in for the last few months was too good to be true. I guess part of me has been waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you know you don't owe staying with him to anyone, don't you?"

She sighed. "You know, you tell me that; mom tells me that. Miles tells me that so often I can practically recite the whole lecture. Hell, even Bass tells me so nearly as often as Miles. Eventually I'm going to start wondering if something's wrong with me that I want to stay with him."

That surprised a smile out of him. "Just wondering. Jason's a good kid. And not bad looking. Not that I did. . .much."

"In-laws," she teased and he grinned.

"Exactly. But he's close to you in age, and probably not too shabby in bed if you two were together how long?"

"Not long enough," she said, letting the sorrow into her voice. "He loved me and I easily could have loved him if we'd have had a little more time. But we didn't and I ended up in New Vegas. Now. . .I don't think I'd go back and change it if I could. Jason and I had intense year where a lot happened to both of us and I won't try to minimize what we had. But it won't be long before I'll have been with Bass longer than I've been with Jason and I'm pretty sure we've already been through more together than Jason and I did." Starting and ending with the supposed death of their child; even if nothing else had ever happened to them.

"Not regretting your choice, are you?"

"No, just thinking how much simpler my whole life would have been if my parents had never gone to work for the DoD." Except then she wouldn't have gotten her 19 years with Danny. It was selfish and wrong to be glad the entire world had gone to hell so she could grow up with her brother. It made her understand her mother just a little more.

Jeremy made a face and she nudged him with her elbow. "Beer and smores?"

"Well, I didn't really appreciate them when I had them. I would have never known what I was missing; never known what I could be. Maybe I'm selfish. . ."

"I was just thinking that same thing. . .about the blackout.  
"  
"It may be selfish," Tom growled and they both jumped, "but I think we all feel it." He rose from his blankets, looming like a specter from a nightmare in the flickers and shadows from the firelight.

"Sorry if we woke you," Charlie said softly. "We can stop talking if it's keeping you awake."

Neville shrugged. "No. I've been a Soldier long enough a chatty watch couldn't keep me awake if I was tired. I'm just worried about my wife so I decided to eavesdrop. Do you know what I was before the Blackout?"

Charlie shook her head but Jeremy grinned. "An insurance adjuster. It was your job to know when people were lying. Not a skill you lose, apparently." He sounded like he was quoting something and she thought for a moment Tom looked angry but the man shrugged.

"Fair enough. Guess it's time I come up with a new tagline. But the day of the blackout I'd just been fired. For paying out a claim for smoke damage. Those people had been insured by our company for years and it was a technicality. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wasn't sure how I was going to keep a roof over our heads or feed my son. My neighbor treated me like shit and thought he could get away with anything -- tried to take our food." She remembered Rachel shooting the man who had threatened her and tried to steal their supplies. "That's the day the man I thought I was died and the man I am now was born. Later I sank lower. . .but that was the day it started. So if I could go back. . .I don't think I would either."

"We are a fucked up bunch," Jeremy said. "That's been true for a long time and for once I'm not sorry we haven't lost that."

Tom grimaced but didn't disagree as he turned to Charlie. "I heard what else you said. So you never loved Jason, did you?"

"I wanted to. I just didn't trust him for a really long time. I was on the verge of it after that drone strike -- that couple of weeks we all spent in Atlanta before we headed for the Tower. Everything that happened after that. . .well, I never thought we were going to see each other again after the Tower."

"Monroe?"

She wasn't sure if he was asking if she loved Monroe, how they had ended up together or a little bit of both but she shrugged.

“I ran into him in New Vegas. . .tried to kill him but he got snagged by bounty hunters. I followed them to make sure they got the job done but ended up tied up right beside him.”

“So you helped each other escape?”

“No. I practically begged them to kill him. They cut me loose when they left – made sure they had some lead time. I caught up with them in time to try knock his head off with a pipe I found but ended up on the ground with the wind knocked out of me. One of them was already dead and the other one and I tried to track him down. He came back to let me know about the bounty the Patriots had on my mother; asked me to take him to Miles. I walked away but he caught up with me in time to save me from getting gang raped in a bar.”

“And you were grateful?” There was sneer in Tom’s voice again and she shrugged.

“Yes. But not that grateful. He talked me into taking him to Willoughby. Our cover on why I’d brought him back was that he was some guy I picked up in the Plains Nation after he saved my life and we managed to keep that going for a couple of months before the Patriots started really watching us – something to do with that scientist named Horn and my mother. Miles got some contact to smuggle us ammo but he was doing it in dead animals that we were butchering up for the Patriots because they weren’t searching their own food supplies. Then one night we had to get it away from the house and we knew it was being watched. Mom and Miles were moving it so it was up to Bass and I to create a distraction. I realized I’d been so scared our cover was going to have us need to sleep together I’d rather just get it over. After that, it just became habit. Then I figured out that he was about the only person who wasn’t going to have an issue with my family. Jason was the other one. . .but I didn’t think I’d ever see Jason again.” She glanced over at Tom’s sleeping son and felt her lips curve up slightly. “I feel bad for him. I really do. But I can’t go back. Not now. Not even for him.”

“So you’ve picked Monroe?” His voice wasn’t exactly unfriendly but there was something to it that made her realize what she said next was important. She glanced at Jeremy to see if he could give her a cue but the blond man was staring at the fire.

“I did.” She held up her ring, letting the firelight catch it. “I wish I could tell Jason if I had only known we would see each other again, I’d have done things different. But I can’t. Or at least I couldn’t and not be lying.”

Tom’s smile was a little scary – it was possibly the first time he’d ever looked at her and looked like he approved of her, she realized – but she didn’t look away. He was the one who finally broke her gaze but only because he nodded at her. “Good to hear. I feel bad for my boy too – believe it or not. But as much as I would have hated having a Matheson as a daughter-in-law, I’d have put up with it for him. Much as you would have hated having to put up with me too.” His glance moved over to Bass. “But I remember him when things were good. How much he wanted family. And if I’m following him again, I need to be sure you’re not going to pull a. . . .” He trailed off, looking around with what seemed to her to be uncharacteristic reluctance.

“Were you going to say ‘pull a Miles?’ Because if you were I understand what you mean now. I didn’t used to but I do now. Miles himself wishes he could take it back. But he can’t. . .none of us can. I knew, when I told Bass I wanted us to not end our cover, that this was permanent.” She ignored his glare. “And in case you get worried, I’m doing it for myself, not just for him or the rest of you. My mom left. My Dad died. Danny, Nora, Maggie. Jason picked you -- yes, he followed me to Georgia and all that. . .but in the end, he picked you. Bass is the only person that seems to really get that everyone I have ever loved has left. . . because he’s had to deal with the same thing.”

It caught her like a punch to the throat. It wasn’t because in some way he responsible for Danny or her father’s death. It was the simple fact that everyone she loved left, in one way or another. And that, more than anything else was why she had such trouble actually saying the words to him.

Jeremy was pretending to be staring at the fire, ignoring them, but she knew there was no way he’d be doing anything other than listening to them both. Tom actually looked concerned for her but the expression melted into nearly a sneer. It almost appeared to be more habit than malice and he shrugged. “Just as long as you don’t take off like your Uncle did and leave us all to deal with the dragon again. I’m not going through that again.”

“I’ve already told her to just shoot him if she wants to get out,” Jeremy quipped, his voice light but there was an edge under it. “But I think she’s got more guts than that. You should have seen the bruise she left on him when he decided reclaiming the Republic was the only thing that would get his kid back. It was three days old when I saw it and it was still purple. And she left a matching one on Connor for trying to walk away if the Republic wasn’t part of the deal.”

Tom’s eyebrows went up and he shrugged, turning his shoulder slightly away like he was done with the conversation. After nearly five minutes he glanced over at her, sighing deeply. “You’ve definitely given me something to think about. Though I’m not sure I like it at all.” He glanced over at Jason’s sleeping form and sighed again. “You might as well get some sleep. I’m going to be up for a while. I can wake Jason and. . . .”

“Nah,” Jeremy said. “We’ve not had any time to talk alone, Tom. Let the boy sleep a while longer. Charlie, you should rack out now too.” His voice held a hint of warning to it so she nodded, making her way over to her bed. She laid down, suddenly feeling cold as she tucked inside her blanket. Miles had his back to her, facing Rachel, and she scooted closer to him, even if Miles wasn’t the radiating furnace Bass was. She felt the barest brush of her shoulder against his back, hoping it would be enough to let her sleep.

She could hear just the faintest brush of Tom and Jeremy’s voices – they weren’t quite whispering but they were definitely not wanting to be overheard. She was just starting to worry about what they could be saying when Tom laughed softly and she could tell by the tone he really thought whatever Jeremy was saying was funny and she felt herself relax from tension she didn’t even know she’d felt. She pressed herself just s little closer to Miles, feeling her exhaustion closing around her.

 

She woke to a hand on her shoulder – Connor’s, she realized – and sat up, blinking around her. The horses were saddled and someone had put the fire out, she realized. “What time is it?” she mumbled and he smiled at her.

“About half an hour after dawn. We wanted to get an early start this morning but Miles wanted you to sleep a little longer. Said he wanted to make sure the drugs were good and out of your system.”

“Nice of him,” she growled, standing up and shoving her feet into her boots.

“Cynthia’s got your breakfast set aside and Rachel made you some of that tea.” He sounded cautious and she felt her stomach knot. Drinking contraceptive tea seemed kind of pointless when they were – fighting wasn’t exactly the word; at least not like they had in Mexico. But she thought back to the last time they’d made up suddenly and thought that night had contributed to the whole mess they were dealing with in the first place.

“Thanks,” she said, and Connor visibly relaxed. She hadn’t had a chance to talk privately to him either, she realized. Not since they thought she’d lost the sibling he’d so desperately wanted. There were a lot of people she still needed to talk to, she decided. But they could all wait until Bass was ready.

She didn’t see him around the horses or the camp area and she realized Badger was missing. She looked back at Connor and he shrugged, as if he was nervous. “Dad said he was going to ride ahead – do some scouting. Said he’d meet up with us tonight.”  
She felt the rush of panic and the sick certainty that he’d finally carried through one of his ideas that leaving her would be for his own good but she realized Aaron and Quaker were also missing at the same time Connor added, “Aaron went with him.” He must have read her thoughts in her face because he looked worried. “Are you guys okay?”

“We will be. This whole thing with the miscarriage brought back all the stuff with Shelly and the baby that died.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured that out. But he won’t talk about it to me.”

“Me either right now,” Charlie admitted. “Just says he needs tome time. I think we both do.”

Connor glanced over at the horses and she saw Jason, patting his horse on the shoulder. Connor abruptly dropped his voice and leaned in closer. “So you and Jason Neville? You were one a thing?”

“A while ago,” she admitted. “But we parted ways quite a while ago and I never thought I’d see him again.”

“So by my pushing you two to get married. . . .”

Connor just looked miserable and she leaned closer, touching him on the shoulder. “Marriage is such an undefined institution these days if I wanted out all I’d have to do is just walk away. But it was a symbol of the fact I want to be with your Dad and that hasn’t changed, even if I have had an old boyfriend show up. That part hasn’t changed.” He looked a little happier and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “So you’re still going to have to put up with an evil step-mother, brat.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

 

The next few days were near copies of the last – riding forty to fifty miles a day, depending on how far her Uncle wanted to push them. She and Bass barely spoke beyond “good morning” and “good night,” partly because he kept scouting with Aaron so Charlie usually rode near Cynthia. It wasn’t, she told herself, that she was avoiding Jason. But he watched her, she thought, even if there was nothing she could call him on.

But part of her plan did seem to be working. He’d lost the edge of sorrow he’d carried and when she saw him in the evening, talking to Miles or Jeremy or Tom about the next day’s movement time, there was that subtle hardness she’d learned to associate with the General, even if it was the General at his best – not plagued with nightmares or terrors or fears his own men were betraying her. She knew they were talking about D.C. and tactics for when they arrived but she avoided them on purpose, even if at one time she’d have demanded a place in their conferences.

On the third day, Miles went out when Bass and Aaron and met up with them in the evening. They were riding for about half a day through an unusually thick wooded area – as if the whole area had been forest even before the Blackout. Charlie had been jumpy most of the afternoon but she felt herself calm down when Miles moved her horse next to hers. “So there’s an inn not far from here,” he said, his voice pitched where she was the only one who could hear it. “What would you think about sleeping in a bed for the night?”

“Why would I mind that?” she asked and was surprised when he glared at her.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because it’s been kind of obvious that you and Bass have been avoiding each other. Might be a little harder to do if you’re sharing a room.”

She felt her anger well up and directed it at Miles, even if he wasn’t really the one she was mad at. “Figured that was better than pointing a gun at him in the middle of the night.” She almost wanted to back down at the look on his face but the rage replaced the fear that had felt like it had been eating a hole in her gut for days. “He’s the one who asked for space. But yes, a bed and a bath would be nice.” She yanked Blaze’s reins so he veered away from Miles before he could respond, feeling a little guilty that she was being harsher with her horse than he deserved and feeling even more guilty that it felt so damn good to hurt someone else – Blaze and Miles both.

 

The innkeeper was a solid man in his mid-forties and Charlie smiled slightly, ducking past introductions and discussions about dinner to head up the stairs and drop her pack. They wouldn’t be able to get baths till the morning – he’d already turned off his bath-house fire a few hours ago, but she decided to change into a clean shirt anyway, jerking when the door opened and Bass walked in. He leaned against the door frame, watching her with an almost clinical interest but he made no move to approach her as she pulled the clean shirt over her head and shook out her hair.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice absent. “Green’s Jason’s favorite color, isn’t it?”

She froze with the hem of the t-shirt mid-way down her abs and felt her stomach knot. “No idea. I don’t think we ever talked about favorite colors.” She was pretty sure that was the truth. “How would you even know what it was?”

“I made all my officers write bios about themselves. I think that was one of my questions. Pointless mostly, but a good way to find out about someone. Get them talking about something they liked and they’ll usually talk about other things.”

She remembered the day he’d told he was hoping to find her roses in his favorite shade of red and she’d confessed she loved the color of his eyes. She wondered if he was thinking it too. “Well I had no idea. And everything else I own is dirty.” It was dark green, very different from the color of the dress she’d married him in but the association felt tarnished suddenly.

He shrugged as if he didn’t care, dropping his pack on the bed next to hers and then glancing around the room, as is he was suddenly nervous. “Do you want me to sleep on the floor?”

“Why the hell would I want you to sleep on the floor?” The words burst out before she could stop them.

“I don’t know, Charlotte,” he snapped, drawing her name out almost like an insult. “Maybe because you said you wanted space. And maybe because I’m trying to give you the month the doctor said you needed before we started having sex again.”

She felt stupid, standing and gaping at him like a fish, and she finally forced her mouth closed. “What are you talking about? Has this really been what this is about? That was because I was supposed to have just had a miscarriage but I didn’t.” She could hear her voice raising not quite into a shriek and she forced herself to stand a little straighter and drop it, even if she just wanted to find the nearest basin and be sick. “But maybe space isn’t such a bad idea.” She watched the hurt in his eyes but it was gone a few seconds later under General Monroe’s icy glare. “If you --”

The door flew open and she saw Jason in the doorway, fists clenched and face twisted in anger. “What the hell are you doing, you son-of-a-bitch,” he snapped. “How can you talk to her like that?”

She tried to slam it closed in his face but he swatted it aside like it was a toy, ignoring her, “get out!” as he crossed the floor and grabbed Bass’ arms. 

“You got what I wanted, you fucking bastard. And you don’t even appreciate her. What the hell did you do to get her to love you when all you are is a fucking asshole to her?” Bass’ look was stricken and she felt like screaming, watching General Monroe fall away. “You don’t look at her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t touch her. I thought I was going to try to be the noble one here and stay away from her but if you keep acting like this, you selfish prick, I won’t have to even bother trying to get her leave you, she’ll do it on her own.”

“Jason,” she managed to choke out, “get out.” It was too late, she realized, the damage was done. Bass’ face showed every vestige of the terror she knew he’d been repressing and the footsteps pounding down the hallway might as well have not even bothered. It was too late to fix this.

“Charlie,” Bass choked, his voice even more contrite than his face and suddenly Miles was crowding into the doorway with Tom and she tried to choke back her own sobs of frustration.

“What in seven hells?” Miles demanded and she cut over Bass’ self-loathing babble of contrition and Jason’s vitriol.

“Get out. All of you. Get the fuck out of my room.” 

She wasn’t surprised when none of them moved but everyone else had at least stopped talking until Miles said quietly, “What ‘s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I’ve just spent the last few days getting him to turn back into General Monroe because he’s able to deal with what happened to us in Delhi and Bass isn’t. And Jason here has to come along and ruin it.” She ignored Jason’s look of shocked outrage and Tom’s raised eyebrows and turned to Bass, who just looked like he hated himself. “I watched you shutting down and I knew it would get to a point I wouldn’t be able to reach you anymore. I thought that maybe, if you got to be General Monroe, you’d able to not have to deal with it till you were able to.

Bass still looked upset but not as much like he wanted to take himself outside and shoot himself. “Is that what all this last few days has been about?”

“You were the one who said he needed space.”

She heard Jeremy clear his throat from the doorway. “That’s true. She asked me about it a few days ago. I told her she was crazy if she thought she could get you to balance being General Monroe without tipping Tom Neville over the edge again but she managed it longer than I’d have been able to. And she was right. You were pushing past all the stuff from Delhi. Maybe not in the healthiest form. . .but better than you could have as Bass.”

Jason looked a cross between outraged and ashamed and Tom grabbed his arm. “Come on, Boy. I think it’s time we made ourselves scarce. Generals, Captain Baker, Miss Matheson; good night to you all.” He was mocking them, she realized, but in an amused way, as if he almost actually approved of her. It made her head hurt almost as much as the inevitable fight with Bass was going to.

Jeremy grabbed Miles arm and pulled him out of the room just behind Tom and she was suddenly aware she was alone in the room with Bass, who was glaring at her like she had been glaring at Jason.

One of them was going to have to break down and speak first and it might as well be her, she decided. “Say something.”

“I don’t like being manipulated.” He was angry, but not as cold as she had feared.

“Well I don’t like being shut out. I figured if I was getting it then I might as well give you the best chance at making it through this.”

“You know I attributed it to you wanting to be with Jason Neville.”

“No.” That was an angle she hadn’t considered. “I didn’t.”

“I kept telling myself that I needed to stay away from you because the doctor said a month – I don’t know why I didn’t realize that was out the window since it wasn’t a real miscarriage. But I expected to at least have to tell you that. You didn’t seem to care. Seemed to be glad of the space.”

“I was worried you were going to leave me for my own good. You nearly did.”

He huffed a laugh. “I was stupid and hurting and not thinking. And I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“I had to threaten to have sex with your own son,” she accused and he moved to grab her by the shoulders.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was terrified I was going to lose you; like I lost my family and Shelly and even Emma. It was something that shouldn’t have happened and it did and I was alone again.”

They met in the middle of the room and he pulled her close against him, his lips crushing into hers hard enough it was painful but she didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and good wishes. I've been enjoying training and will be leaving the country in about another month. But obviously I've been getting a little time to write and while I can't get onto AO3 to reply, if anyone wants to talk to me about anything I can still email (sallyportao3@gmail.com). Many thanks to ImLuvinMyThesaurus for being the one to physically post this for me.
> 
> I had actually meant to stretch out the Charlie/Bass fight for a little longer but it was about to start feeling forced. . .and I want to get to some of the Charlie/Bass; Charlie/Jason; Charlie/Connor; Charlie/Miles conversations I've been putting off.
> 
> The one that did catch me by surprise was the Charlie/Jeremy/Tom talk. That wasn't supposed to happen yet but somehow it crept in and I actually liked it there. I think Tom is not quite at ease with anyone yet and somehow sensing there was a discord between Charlie and Bass/Miles made him a little more comfortable with her.
> 
> We still have a little bit before we get to D.C. but not that much. Now I just have to orchestrate rescuing Julia and kidnapping the President. This could get interesting.


	43. Chapter 43

Bass broke off the kiss to grab her around the waist and lift her, carrying over and sitting her on the edge bed as he pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it over his shoulder. He leaned forward to kiss her gently as he stripped his jeans and bent over her, delving his tongue into her mouth repeatedly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as she fumbled with her own shirt.

"Shut up," she mumbled against his mouth, trying to drag him closer with one hand and get rid of her pants with another. It didn't work and she suppressed a growl when he laughed and leaned in to help her.

"No, really, I feel like --"

"Bass," she snapped. "I know. But I really don't want to talk about it right now." Or ever, she decided. But that was probably too much to hope for. He was pressing himself into her and she kept her moan as quiet as she could but he grinned at her before he leaned close, pressing their foreheads together.

She gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers into the bunched muscles and he groaned in appreciation. "Don't stop," he breathed and she laughed, working at the knots. "No, really," he said, and her breath caught at seeing the grin that had been absent from his face for days, "please, don't stop."

Afterwards he held her close, his chin tucked over the top of her head, one of his arms under her shoulder and the other pressing at her hip. "I don't want to lose you," he whispered into her hair and she half-turned her head so her cheek was nestled onto his shoulder.

"You're not going to lose me." She moved her hands to link her fingers with his. "I can't promise that something won't happen to me. . .but even if it does, I'll always be with you. Just as -- if something happens to you -- I know some part of you will still be here."

He buried his face her in hair, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. She turned to face him, cradling him but she realized the tightness in her own throat wasn't something she had to hide any longer and they clung together as they both cried. It was for both their families, she realized. His parents and sisters, her father and brother, Shelly and the baby, Emma, Nora, Maggie. She hadn't realize how much she'd been telling the truth when she told Tom Neville the lines between their dead had blurred.

 

They left at dawn, Miles insisting they get on the road without waiting for whatever the inn offered as breakfast. They rode for nearly an hour before they stopped near a small creek and Rachel portioned out what remained of their bread. "We're going to be down to potatoes and beets at this rate," her mother commented wryly. "Miles, we're going to have to find someplace with a market soon."

"I probably should be able to get something," Charlie added. She'd not paid much attention to their food supply for a few days but the area looked like it would be pretty good for game.

"Later," Miles insisted. "Hand out the last of the jerky. . .we can eat that as we ride for the afternoon and we'll start on the potatoes this evening."

"What's your rush?" she asked and he grimaced, looking a little reluctant, but finally cleared his throat.

"What you said, about getting him to turn into General Monroe?" She nodded, abruptly remembering her cutting words to him earlier in the day. "I'm pretty sure there was no one else around when you said it. But just wanted to get as far away as we could in case someone did hear something and put it together."

She swore, rubbing at her face with her hands and he leaned over his saddle to pat her shoulder. "Hey, relax. It's going to be okay. . .just a precaution."

"I never thought about that," she admitted. "I was so. . .I was trying to get him to close down and the only way I could do that was to push him away. Except I had to do it to everyone so he wouldn't think it was just him. And I said some pretty terrible things. To you as well."

He shrugged, a tiny smile tilting at the corner of his mouth. "Well, it wasn't anything that wasn't true. Though I am glad to hear you had a reason behind how you were acting. I was worried about you, Kid."

 

They camped nearly half-mile off the road that night, Miles insisting they go deep into the scrub so there was no chance the sight or smell of the smoke from their fire would be evidently visible. She wandered on the edge of the clearing they finally picked, gathering sticks, when Miles came up to her with her crossbow.

"Hey, Charlie, any chance we could get you to go find us some dinner?"

"Yeah, probably." She smiled at him, feeling more relaxed than she had in days when she recognized Jason's footsteps behind her and she saw Miles wince just slightly.

"I'll go with you," Jason said but Miles shook his head.

"I'm not so sure that's such a great idea right now."

"Like her wandering off alone is? Or do you care so little about--"

He cut off as Miles lunged towards him and she barely managed to step between the two of them. "Enough," she snapped. "Both of you. Miles, go help mom with the fire." She shook her head as everyone else turned to stare at them and she almost breathed a sigh of relief when no one came over to try to help. Bass didn't move from unsaddling the horses but his eyes asked 'do you need help' and evidently read her reply of 'no' in the faintest movement of her neck that could barely be called shaking her head. Miles hadn't moved and she touched his arm. "It'll be good to have another person along. You got a weapon?" she asked Jason without looking behind her.

"I've got a crossbow in my saddlebags."

"Well go get it." She heard him walk away and watched Miles' savage eyes track him across the clearing. "Don't let him get to you, okay?" Miles jerked like someone had woken him from a deep sleep and he exhaled noisily.

"Sorry. Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

She snorted. "Really?" That actually wrung a reluctant smile out of him. "But really, we're overdue for a talk and it'll probably be less awkward out hunting than if we're trying to have it here in camp."

He nodded, clearly reluctant. "Just try not to scare off all the game. And Charlie," he sounded oddly reluctant. "I do care. You know that, right?"

She stood on her toes to lean in and kiss him on the cheek, the stubble of his chin brushing along her skin. "Of course I know that. Where's all this coming from?" She turned to see Jason walking up to them again, his expression closed off and Miles mouthed 'later' at her. The two men glared at each other but it almost seemed more like habit, even if Jason clearly had touched a nerve.

They headed deeper into the woods, till even the muted sounds from their camp had faded. Their silence was oddly comfortable as if the months seperating them had faded back to their first trip together towards Chicago; before she'd known he was anything more than a boy named Nate.

"When did you start carrying a crossbow," she asked, the though of Nate triggering the memory of the long bow he'd used so skillfully.

"A few months ago. I don't like it nearly as well but it's easier to conceal." His weapon was a lot smaller than hers. It would take longer to reload and be less accurate but it could be hidden much easier than hers. "We weren't really trying to draw attention to ourselves."

"Fair enough." She was a little disquieted by the fact he knew exactly what she had meant when she had asked. Yet another needless reminder that -- as much as she hated it -- there was still a bond between them. She began to feel a little more sympathy for Miles and how he must have felt, deciding to leave the Republic. "Hey, take it easy on Miles would you. I can understand you're pissed at me but that's no way to take it out on him?"

"What," he snapped, stopping and glaring at her. "You think this isn't a dream come true for him? You think I don't remember the Republic when General Matheson was around? Just because I wasn't in the Militia doesn't mean I didn't know what they were like together. And how they are now? Together again."

She raised her bow and his eyes widened in surprise but she reached a hand out and jerked him aside to fire over where his shoulder would have been at whatever bird he had spooked. He shrugged reluctant admiration when the sound of fluttering wings crashed to the ground and they walked a few hundred yards for her to pull an arrow out of a dead turkey. It was on the smallish side -- clearly still a juvenile but it would be enough for a few meals and she grabbed her knife, making a long cut to get at the entails and their hands brushed as they pulled out offal together.

"You want to pluck it or skin it?" he asked and she grimaced.

"Probably pluck it when we get back to camp. I can use the feathers."

He shrugged in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I could stand to fletch some more arrows myself. So, really, who's better in bed, him or me?"

She looked up at him, sighing. "You really want to go there?" The change had come so abruptly she was too stunned to even be angry and yet she realized she'd been expecting it and it was almost a relief not to dread him asking.

"Yeah, Charlie, I think I do." She stood from her crouch, the two of them glaring at each other over the dead turkey and she smiled, though he clearly knew it wasn't a friendly expression.

"Fine, you asked. It doesn't have anything to do with sex. Or rather it doesn't have everything to do with sex. But when I'm with him I don't feel like I'm a tool being used against your Dad."

"Like you never used me against Miles?"

She ignored him. "He doesn't lie to me or try to hide who is or why he doesn't something. There are parts of him I don't like but at the same time I know what they are. . .everything single one of them. Even when we're fighting -- and yeah, we fight a lot -- I know why."

"So how did it happen?" He sounded angry but there was hurt and genuine puzzlement in his tone and she sighed.

"I didn't do well after the Tower. I'd started to loose you before it. . .when Jim Hudson made us think you'd killed Ramsey. Then, when Miles closed the door to the Tower with you and your Dad still outside. . ." She remembered that one look they shared, Miles holding her back as she'd tried to break free to go back for him. She'd wondered for months what he had thought, watching the doors close. "When I saw you alive, with your Dad, trying to stop us from turning the power back on. Why, Jason? That was what we'd gone there for."

"No, that was what your mom had gone there for. We went because we found out Monroe knew she was there."

He'd known where Rachel was going. She'd cried more than a few times into his shoulder --metaphorically and literally -- about her mother leaving her again and everything being more important to Rachel than her. He had wrapped her in his arms countless times in those few weeks in Atlanta, making love to her and assuring her that nothing to him was more important than her and that he would never leave her. A promise he had broken so soon after. Their eyes met and he flushed and looked away, as if he remembered as well.

She told him, her voice harsh, about Rachel's role in Nora's death -- she was pretty sure he'd known Nora had died there but not the details -- and about Rachel's suicide attempts afterwards. How she had left Willoughby finally and travelled in the Plains Nations, desperate to replace everyone, including him, with alcohol and random men. How everything had seemed meaningless until she had heard the name "Monroe" over a plate of hot eggs.

He yelled at her for being stupid in Pottsboro -- his angry features looking more like himself -- and the grudging respect when she'd told how Bass had saved her from that. He smiled about gutting fish, hitting Bass and Connor with the buttstock of her crossbow on the same day; the description of Jeremy's adopting the role of Miles' erstwhile lover even made him laugh, especially when she told him about Jeremy making the three of them sing together in public. But it wasn't until nearly an hour into the story -- the pile of turkey feathers grown alarmingly high on the ground as she finally abandoned the idea of taking it back to camp to pluck -- that his shoulders slumped.

"So you're basically telling me I have no chance of you ever changing your mind."

"Did I ever make you think there was one?" She kept her tone gentle and he shrugged. 

"Can't blame a guy for trying." He pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion and she recoiled but she was still seated so all that happened was she ended up sprawled on her back and butt, unable to grab a weapon in either hand since she was using them for balance. He chuckled, looming over her for an instant but then he moved to put them on the ground next to the turkey feathers and started to scoop them onto the thin fabric. "What was that?" he teased. "You'd think I made you nervous or something."

She considered denying it but she snuck a look at the muscles of his chest and shoulders and she remembered the smooth warmth that had tucked against her once, making her feel safe and she felt her mouth dry and her eyes sting from tears. 

He was still smirking at her as he was piling the feathers but she could tell the instant he recognized the look on her face because his gaze shifted to that intense focus he'd turn on her -- the one that made her think she was the center of his world once -- and he abandoned the turkey feathers to reach one hand out to touch her cheek. She didn't love him, she realized. But she would have, if the Tower hadn't come along, and she leaned her face against the warmth of his hand for one indulgent moment before she pushed herself to her feet.

"I'm sorry things worked out this way. I wish it had turned out different. But the thing is, if I could go back and change it now. . .I'm not sure I would."

She saw the hard fury flash across his face, gone as quickly as it had come and he just looked tired as he finished wrapping the feathers in his shirt. He didn't look at her as he stood and headed back towards camp. She watched him walk away before she grabbed the bird by one of it's wings and balanced it on her shoulder and followed him.

 

"Took you guys long enough," Aaron commented as he lifted the turkey from Charlie's arms. "Started to wonder if we were going to eat grass for dinner." But he carved several thin slices off one of the legs, using his knife to position them on flat rocks he's put directly over the coals sometime after they'd left. The meat immediately began to sizzle as Cynthia brought over Miles' sword.

"Here, use this for the spit," Cynthia said, shoving it through the abdominal cavity. "Remind me to buy a real spit at the next town we come too. Most blacksmiths make travel spits so we don't have to deal with finding forked branches or them breaking." Rachel, Charlie noticed, had two solid forked branches that had the ends sharpened that she was pressing into the ground on either side of the fire pit.

"For someone who thought they were going to have to eat grass, you certainly were ready for us?" Charlie teased, trying not to watch where Jason was pulling a clean shirt from his pack and slipping it over his head. It was green, she noticed, frowning slightly.

"Let's just say I had faith."

"Faith and my sword," Miles grumbled, "You do know if anything happens while it's roasting the bird gets dumped in the dirt, right?"

"Relax," Cynthia said, her eyes gleaming with merriment. "We'll just brush it off after you're done killing everyone. And the sword has an added bonus of being hot."

"Great, so it cauterizes the cuts and they end up on the ground screaming in pain but not bleeding to death. That'll be fun for everyone."

"It won't be that hot," Cynthia snarked back and the two of them glared at each other, clearly both trying not to laugh but then Miles turned and snorted in Jason's direction.

"Tight as that shirt is, he might as well have just left it off."

"Fine by me," Cynthia said, winking at Charlie's. "He's way too young for me but a little eye candy never hurt anyone." Miles made some noise of disgust and Cynthia laughed. "Sorry, but you left yourself wide open for that one. You make it too easy when you're flustered, Miles."

"Thanks. Take my sword, take my dignity." Miles let out a giant sigh that was clearly exaggerated and Aaron used his knife to spear one of the chunks of turkey, his sleeve pulled over his hand but he still hissed from the heat. He passed the blade over to Miles who blew on the meat, then lipped it off the point carefully. "Ow, hot." But after a moment her uncle nodded, "Okay, yeah, take my sword. I think I'd forgotten what real turkey tasted like."

"Well as you're so gracious," Cynthia smiled, "we won't make you eat crow too."

"I'm going to cook pieces from the drumsticks on the rocks," Aaron commented. "The whole bird probably won't be ready till midnight. But whoever is on watch can keep an eye on it and we can eat the rest of it for breakfast."

"Where is everyone," Charlie asked, realizing that people weren't just spread around the campsite.

"Jeremy found a stream a little ways from here," Miles said. "Jeremy, Tom and Connor went to bathe or do laundry. Or both."

She nodded absently, noticing Jason had pulled open his old shirt and was sorting out the different types of feathers. She touched Miles' arm and led him away from the fire, making her way down the horse lines like it was casual. "I wanted to ask you. . .what was that about with Jason earlier?"

His look turned guilty-wary but he smiled, clearly trying to act innocent and failing miserably. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap, Miles. The part about Jason saying you didn't take care of me? Since when have you cared about Jason's opinion about anything?"

He held up his hand and she could see him studying a rough scar. "Because I had a dream once. . .had to have been a dream. I don't remember falling asleep or waking up but that's the only thing that makes sense. Anyway, it was Ben. And he. . .he told me I wasn't taking care of you and Rachel. I almost left because of it. . .was leaving over it, actually. Said goodbye and was riding out of town."

"What stopped you?"

He snorted. "Titus Andover and his war clan, actually. Funny, if the Patriots had delayed just a little longer and Rachel had died, I would have joined them if I didn't know they'd sic'd them on her in the first place. Part of me almost hopes I see Truman some day to point that out to him that if he didn't have lousy timing, he might have actually had me for something."

She recognized the hauntedness in his eyes; the what-if and what-might-have-beens and she slipped her arm through his, leaning her head against the side of his shoulder. "Well, whatever it was, it wasn't really my Dad."

"Yeah, why do you say that?" His voice was dark with self doubt and she smiled.

"Because if he didn't think you could take care of me, Dad wouldn't have told me to find you just before he died." She could tell he was still doubtful but she sensed him relax a little as he leaned over to press a kiss into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on my four-day pass from training before I leave Texas in a couple of weeks. . .thus real internet. Very possibly the last non-military filtered internet I'll get for close to a year. But I still have email so ImLuvinMyThesaurus will still be posting for me. If anyone wants me to read anything of theirs please email it to me at sallyportao3@gmail.com.
> 
> That said, while I probably can't respond to comments I can still read them through email. . .and it anyone wants a response please email me also. I'm on that nearly every day but the filters usually don't allow fanfic sites or approve of the content either.
> 
> I didn't actually mean for Jason and Charlie to have the "moment" over the dead turkey. But while the Jason/Charlie relationship never really felt right to me, there was no doubt they did have a bond and I wanted to show that, even if she has no intention of taking off and leaving Bass for him. Things will definitely be a little strained between them but he gets over it eventually. I'm about half-way through the a chapter about them being in D.C. Unfortunately there are still a few chapter between this one and that one but there has been a lot I've written out of order so that's nothing new. . .it just means that between movement between here and Afghanistan, it might be a bit before you see another chapter. And while I do have time to write in the next few days on my pass, there is a pool here at the Bed and Breakfast I'm staying at so I don't intend to spend all my time at the computer. If any of you ever get to Texas and need a nice place to relax for a few days, I highly recommend Pecan Manor in Taylor, Texas. It's delightful. And, oh-by-the-way, it's about 15 miles from another small town called Bartlett, Texas. Bartlett, as if happens, is where they filmed a lot of the scenes of Willoughby. And while there are a lot of things that look very different now (the gates and wall are totally gone and some of the buildings were false-fronts that never existed) there are still plenty of perfectly recognizable spots. I'm going to go back through there tomorrow and have lunch (about the only diner in the town is cash-only and I didn't have any on me yesterday when I went through. . .but it's on my way back to base). I saw the building with the Patriot mural "Together, we can rebuild America", the alley where Rachel and Miles both nearly died fighting the Andovers and -- my absolute favorite -- the remains of the shed Miles burnt after he had the nanite vision. That silo/tower stands next to it and you can see it from the main road. I saw the tower first and had to pull over and get a few pictures. The grass and weeds have grown up around it a little but it's still very recognizable (I have to admit, I don't know what the tower is for. . .it's too narrow to be silo. . .but it looks EXACTLY like in the show, including the split down the top). In fact, I hadn't planned to have Charlie and Miles talk about Miles' vision but I'd been semi-obsessed with whatever happened there since it was clearly significant but they took so long to give us an explanation. . .I was okay with the wait once I found out we would eventually learn what that was all about. . .I was just afraid they'd never get around to telling us. In fact, it bothered me enough I even wrote a five word fic based on it.
> 
> Alas, how much more fun the trip would have been if they'd still been filming Revolution and I could have gotten a glimpse of what that looked like (even if it would have meant detours. . .I literally had to drive down the main road of Bartlett to get to the highway that took me to Taylor). But if we don't get a Season three, at least we still have AO3.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read a brand new Chapter Two in this story. The former One and Two were combined to make room for a whole new Chapter detailing some of the incidents that occurred between Chapter Two and Three. . .and I finally got to work in one of my favorite scenes between Charlie and Bass in the school. . .thought I had to give up on that one but I finally got to use it.

The next two weeks were nearly identical to each other, traveling during the day and camping as far off the road as Miles could get them. The closer they got to Savannah, the more edgy everyone got, with Bass and Miles making Tom and Jason recount everything they could remember about the refugee camps and the train as well as their time at the Capitol before they had been sent west after Monroe.

Tom was clearly getting more introspective and Charlie could tell Miles wasn’t the only one worrying about the fact the elder Neville was speaking less and less, but his eyes were constantly moving, as if he was trying to measure everything going on around them. They were pretty sure they were three days out from Savannah, eating a cold meal because Miles didn’t want to risk a fire when Charlie stood to toss her blankets next to her pack. “Connor, Jason. . .you two have first watch tonight,” she said, aware everyone was looking at her. Usually it was Miles who set the watch schedules. “Cynthia and Aaron, you’re next. Then me and Neville, Mom and Jeremy. Bass, you and Miles have last watch.”

“Why wait,” Tom growled and his smile at her puzzled look wasn’t particularly kind. “Come on, it’s no secret that if you’re assigning the two of us to a watch shift, it’s because there’s something you want to say to me. So, why wait. Go ahead and say it now and spare us the hour-and-a-half in each other’s company.”

She considered denying that was what she meant, but decided it was pointless. None of them were stupid and she’d been doing her best to avoid any one-on-one time with either Neville ever since the hunting trip with Jason. She smiled slightly and shrugged, not quite sure why she wanted to talk to him alone and went back to spreading out her blanket. She could tell Neville was watching her but eventually he turned away without further protest.

“What is this about?” Bass whispered when he settled beside her, wrapping himself around her in their usual sleeping position. She cuddled herself more firmly against his chest but didn’t respond and she could tell he was surprised about her lack of explanation but he didn’t question her further.

She could hear the sounds of everyone else preparing for bed and settling in for the night but sleep eluded her. She could just barely see Connor’s outline, his back propped against a fallen log. Jason was sitting next to him, actually on the log, shoulders hunched. The two young men had never really seemed to have much to say to each other during the day time and she was pretty sure this was the first time they’d been on watch together.

“So what’s it like?” Connor finally asked, his voice pitched just about a whisper but they were only a few feet away from where she was so Charlie could hear him perfectly. “My Dad and Charlie?”

She heard Jason snort and throw something – a piece of bark or a small rock, most likely. “You ever had your girl date your boss?”

“Plenty of times,” Connor quipped, but then he sighed. “But to be fair, they were all pro’s and he was the one who had hired them in the first place. And it wasn’t like I misunderstood the relationship so it’s probably not the same thing at all.”

Jason was silent for a long time before he replied, “Well, I don’t think I misunderstood our relationship. Charlie was. . .never mind.”

“Dude, I’ve not met your mom. But I’ve heard the stories and I’ve met your Dad. Let me guess, Charlie was like the family you’d always wanted?”

She heard the surprise in Neville’s voice as he replied, “How did you know?”

“There I was, down in Mexico. Second in command to a guy who had it all. Money, women, power. And then one day this guy shows up and claims to be my real dad. Granted, finding out I was General Monroe’s son was a bit of a shock, but what did he have to offer? His city? His militia? They were both gone. And his promise of power wasn’t anything to trust. But then there was Charlie. . .pretty face. Incredible body. . .don’t think that just because she’s with my Dad I didn’t have fantasies. At least at first. But hot women are easy to come by. I couldn’t get what she was offering anywhere else.”

“And what was that?” She heard the grudging reluctance to Jason’s voice.

“Family.” She was pretty sure she heard Jason choke back an oath. “Which I’m pretty sure is what she offered you too, albeit in a different form.”

“Listening to Charlie talk about her Dad and brother. . .I never had that with my parents. Matter of fact, I always kind of figured my parents really didn’t need me since they had each other.” 

“My Dad made me feel that way for a while too, when I first was in Willoughby. He had Miles and Charlie. . .what did he need me for. Turns out he was just scared I didn’t want him. Any chance the same thing is happening with your old man?”

“No,” Jason snapped, but there was a long pause and he sounded much less sure of himself when he added, “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, I can’t tell either. Your dad takes hard to read to a new art form. But if there’s one thing the Matheson’s do, it’s family. I even kind of understand why my Dad got so obsessed with Miles all those years.”

“I never thought of it like that,” Jason replied but she could hear the curiosity in his voice. “I. . .I guess it kind of makes sense. I spent the better part of a year chasing around after Charlie after I first met her. Deserted the Militia for her. Fought with Georgia.” She heard the sorrow in his voice as he, no doubt, recalled the fact he’d ultimately chosen Tom’s side.

“So I get that you’re kind of pissed she’s off limits these days. But like I said, good lays are easy to find. Family. . .well, the Matheson’s are still handing that out wholesale. It’s easy to tell she still cares about you. What I want to know is, are you going to sell us out to the Patriots because you’re mad a piece of tail got away?”

Charlie felt her eyebrows raise and she buried her face deeper in the crook of Bass’ elbow to muffle a surprised gasp. The deadly seriousness of Connor’s tone somehow managed to make her fight back laughter, despite the gravity of the situation. She could imagine the anger probably rippling across Jason’s face but she also noticed he didn’t rush to deny it immediately either, and when he did speak, she could hear the pain in his voice.

“I love her.”

“Then why was she all alone when she was hunting my Dad in the Plains?”

She missed Jason’s reply but she turned her head enough to see Connor rise from his seat and drop a hand onto Jason’s shoulder.

“Just remember, Neville, how important family can be. Might be time to earn a new place in this one. I’m going to do a walk-around, check the perimeter. Think about it.”

She still couldn’t see Jason’s face but she could tell just from the hunch of his shoulders that he didn’t like what he’d heard. However, if there was one thing she knew about Jason, it was that he would almost always be reasonable. She breathed in the scent of Bass’ skin, trying to force her mind to relax enough for her to sleep. Connor might have helped her cause – she was surprised he had actually broached the subject but she was glad he had – but she only had a few more hours before she would have to give a similar pitch to Tom.

 

Charlie woke to someone shaking her shoulder gently, and she twisted in Monroe’s grasp to see Cynthia hovering over her. “Sorry,” the other woman whispered. “It’s your watch.”  
Bass’ arms tightened reflexively and she groaned, hating to wake him but knowing she’d have no chance to get free otherwise. She got an elbow into his solar plexus and shoved hard enough to make him open his eyes.

“What the hell,” he complained, clearly still in the lower stages of consciousness but she was able to wiggle out of his grasp.

“My watch.”

“Oh.” He rolled back over and she and Cynthia grinned at each other.

“The real reason,” Charlie whispered as she pulled her jacket on over her tank-top, “why we’re usually on the same watch. Makes getting up easier. Goodnight.”

Cynthia nodded before sliding into her own blankets not far away. Aaron was fiddling with something in his pack but Tom was standing in the center of the circle of sleeping bodies, not far from the log where Jason and Connor had talked earlier. She walked over to him, aware he knew full well she was there even though he didn’t give any indication he’d seen her. After a moment she seated herself on the log and he finally glanced down at her.

“Figure out what it was you wanted to say yet?” He was mocking her, she could tell from his voice. But with Tom Neville, that was nothing different from how he talked to anyone.

“Got a pretty good idea,” she admitted. She rubbed her hands together – the air was still unnaturally warm for the time of year but after the blankets and Bass’ heat, she still felt a little chilled.

Eventually he dropped down to sit on the log next to her and she saw his face ripple in resignation. “Any chance I can get you to spare me the rah-rah Team-Matheson speech?”

She snorted, shrugging one shoulder. “Wasn’t what I planned.”  
“What was?”

“I wanted to say that, if you choose to sell us out to the Patriots for Julia, I’ll understand.”

She could tell she had surprised him when he didn’t speak for a long time and when he finally did his voice was shaken. “I wasn’t aware that I cared that much for your opinion?”  
She snorted, covering a yawn, knowing she’d managed to surprise him. “Well, I understand family. And after what I did to save my brother, I can’t expect you to do any less to save your wife. Though,” she shrugged, “if it comes to it, just be prepared to expect me to do the same. . .whatever it takes to protect them. I’m hoping we don’t end up on different sides.”

“I hear all these plans Miles and Monroe are making. Kidnap the President, set up new elections while the old president is their puppet. . .where does my wife fit into it? And what if it comes down to one or the other? I can’t trust them to do have anyone’s back but each others.”

She heard the frustration in his voice and wondered how long it had simmered there. . .how had, she suddenly wondered, Neville felt watching Monroe go mad and not being able to stop it and how many years of pent up frustration was finally able to come to the surface. “Do you trust me?”

He laughed, his voice as mocking as she had ever heard it as he replied, “You’re kidding, right?”

She didn’t respond and he eventually sighed. “A little.”

“Then will you trust me when I tell you I’ll do everything I can to rescue your wife.”

“Why?”

“Because we need you.” It hurt to say the next words, like someone was dragging glass over her tongue. “Because you’re part of this family now.”

His eyebrows went up as his lips twisted into a sneer. “That hurt to say?”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Fair enough.” She thought he might almost be hiding a smile. 

“So you and I make a deal. I’ll trust you with my back. . .and you trust me to have yours.”

She sensed his subvocal growl more than she heard it but she held eye contact with him until he broke it. “Anyone ever tell you what a major pain in the ass you are?”

“You. Frequently.” This time there was no doubt that he actually smiled.

“You and your brother. Some days I wish I’d have just bypassed that village of yours. . .taken your father’s advice and ridden away.”

She tried to ignore the knife of pain that lanced through her stomach at the thought of Tom doing just that. She’d have still been at Sylvania, chafing at the restrictions of village life and resenting Maggie for getting involved with her father, but she still would have her family. Her eyes flicked around to Miles and her mother, to Connor, to where Cynthia curled close to Aaron and her throat twisted at the thought of all the months she’d spent with her grandfather, who she never 

“I think. . .” her voice was rough and she heard the tears in it. “I think I’d have liked that too. But. . .but as much as I miss my Dad and Danny, if someone offered me a choice. . .” She brushed at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I couldn’t make it. I just wish I could have had my whole family together. That Dad could have met Nora and Maggie could have known Bass as someone other than the dictator. Danny and Connor maybe teaming up to give me a hard time.”  
“Sounds perfect.” She was surprised at the sadness in Neville’s voice. “I sometimes wonder what I would do if I lost everyone. I know what I became when I thought Julia was dead. But what would I do if they were both gone?”

“Tom Neville with nothing to live for?” She shook her head. “Believe me, I never want to have to see what that’s like.”

He grimaced. “Truthfully, neither do I. Alright, Miss Matheson, I’ll take your deal. You do what you can to save my wife, and I’ll see what I can do for this family of yours.”

“This family of ours,” she prompted and he glared at her.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Fair enough. And anyway, it would be Mrs. Matheson,” she corrected and he raised an eyebrow.

“So it is. But it just reminds me a little too much of your mother.”

She hid a smile. “Good point, let’s stick with the Miss Matheson and I’ll know if you’re trying to be really insulting if you call me Mrs.” She took his grimace for agreement and settled herself more comfortably on the log. “So, tell me about Julia. How did you two meet?”

His face lost its hard edge and he sighed. “I was an insurance adjuster and one of my clients called because he’d been in an accident and he didn’t have a copy of his card so he wanted the policy number. The other driver stated she wanted proof – that I wasn’t just some friend of his making something up. It was only a few blocks away from our office so I printed a duplicate card to run out to him. Julia was a passenger. The other driver was furious and screaming at everyone and Julia kept trying to calm her down – it was her cousin. A few days later she stopped by the office to apologize and we talked for hours. I was absolutely head over heels and couldn’t understand why she seemed to like me. . .the family clearly had money; her cousin was driving a BMW.” That meant nothing to Charlie but Tom didn’t seem to notice. “I found out later Julia’s family were the poor relations – though they still had more money than mine did. She told me later she liked the fact that I was nice. Her family wasn’t very nice. Even less when we started dating. They thought she was throwing herself away on me. I remember her mother crying when she announced we were engaged and asking what Julia saw in me.”

“What did she say?”

His smile was sad. “She said she saw someone who loved her unconditionally. Then she said something I didn’t understand for years. She told her mother that someday I’d surprise them all. That I could be anything I needed to be. I thought she was just in love. It wasn’t till after the blackout that I realized she’d seen something in me that I hadn’t. And even yet, I don’t know how far I can fall.”

She could hear the uncharacteristic fear in his voice and it reminded her of Bass fearing General Monroe. She supposed she should have already realized Tom also feared MAJ Neville. It was hard to reach out and touch him on his shoulder but she forced herself to do it, even if she had to look away.

“I think if you’re looking for people who understand that, you’ve come to the right place.”

He didn’t jerk away but she could feel his muscles tense and tremble under her touch, even if he didn’t reply.

Eventually she let her hand fall back into her own lap and he didn’t seem to notice but eventually he shifted so his shoulder barely brushed hers. It was so subtle a contact that she missed the significance of it at first until she realized it was him accepting her offer of family. They sat that way until he got up to rouse Jeremy an hour later. Neither of them spoke to each other as they headed off to their respective blankets and she was just starting to drift off to sleep, the sounds of Rachel and Jeremy’s quiet conversation lulling her, when she felt his presence and looked up to see him looming over her. With her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could just barely see the tear tracks shining on his face and she started to sit up, not sure if she should be scared or not, until his whisper, barely loud enough for her to hear more than the harshness.

“You had better be for real.”

He was scared, she realized. As scared of Bass or Miles ever got when faced with their own pasts and she reached out to grip his hand. “We are. We all are.” He was gone without a reply and she eventually fell asleep.

 

The next morning Neville ignored her completely through the bread they passed around for breakfast but she caught him watching her when she was saddling Blaze and he just looked tired when she smiled at him.

They still had two hours of daylight left when they came to a small town that was surprisingly crowded for as few buildings as it had and Miles led them over to the blacksmith’s shop. “What’s all the excitement,” he asked, leaning against a sign that read “Hortense Forge.”

“Train coming tomorrow,” the smith grunted.

“I thought we were still about a hundred miles from Savannah,” Bass said and the smith nodded.

“Ninety-some. But they’ve got it running between Jacksonville and Savannah now. There’s a stop at Brunswick and you’re only thirty miles away from there. Got a wagon train headed out at dawn to make it by mid-day.”

Miles was studying their map and the smith grinned at him. “You’ll not find Hortense on that map, friend. We were a blink-and-you’ll-miss-us before the blackout. Worse since.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “About there.”

They’d been dropping south since Montgomery, trying to make sure they were totally clear of whatever radiation lingered around Atlanta.

“Well, thanks for the information, friend,” Miles replied. “As busy as it looks, we’d probably be better off moving on for the night. 

The smith nodded. “About two miles south of here is a pretty good river. Decent grazing for the horses too.”

“Thanks,” Miles repeated, turning his horse and leading them back out of town. But not, Charlie noticed, south.

“We headed for Brunswick?” Neville asked and Miles nodded.

“Yes. We ride the rest of the night, get there early and sell the horses before that lot shows up in town. Use the money to buy us tickets and we should be in D.C. in less than a week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken me so long and its a transition chapter at that. . .but we're hopefully going to be able to get back into the action and politics soon. In the meantime, I'm still working on it, despite nearly chopping off my own finger hitching up a trailer. . .but 13 stitches (the broken bone they decided to let heal on its own since it was only the tip and they didn't want to risk more infection by opening it up even further to pin it) and 13 days later, everything's looking great -- though typing is still a little awkward (as much as I try not to use the broken finger sometimes muscle memory takes over and I slap it onto a key. . .and then spend a few minutes re-learning how to breath. I have new sympathy for Miles and the hammer-into-the-hand. Afghanistan is amazing and I love it here but I don't get much of a chance to get onto AO3 these days. I can post on any of my stories marked for general audience from my desk but I can't get on anything marked mature or above on my work computer. I'm hoping to get some time to read some stuff that others have posted because the last time I got to download anything was 9 September and it looks like there are a lot of updates since then. I can't wait to comment on some of the amazing stories out there.


	45. Chapter 45

Charlie was surprised how reluctant she was to consider of selling Blaze; she’d never really thought anything about the horses she’d been around other than means of transportation and she realized she was brushing his shoulder for comfort. She’d started doing it when she and Bass had been fighting and she hadn’t realized she still did it.

The closer they got to the town, the more she started feeling the familiar choking feeling at the back of her throat and she willed herself to try to make it go away. This, she decided, was what happened when people named their animals and she scratched the base of Blaze’s mane absently. She caught Bass watching her and she shrugged. “I think I’m going to miss him,” but she was pleased how even her voice sounded.

“Well that’s a good sign.” He moved Badger closer. “You scare me sometimes, you know. It’s like you have to be all on or all off. . .no in-between with you. For a while, I wasn’t sure you cared about any of us and watching you with the horse was about the only way I could tell you were still you in there.”

She felt her jaw go slack in surprise and forced herself to close her mouth before exclaiming, “I don’t have an in-between? Compared to you, I’m all kinds of moderate.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a good comparison.”

“You’ve met my family, right?” she continued, starting to smile. “I mean, come on, compared to them I’m sane and normal.”

“Again, not a good baseline.”

“Besides, if you recall, I’d shut down entirely for your benefit.”

“Which I should be grateful for, because it did help. . .but at the same time, I thought you’d decided you’d preferred Jason.”

She glanced over to where the younger Neville was riding between his father and Aaron. “That’s because you’re an idiot.” He didn’t disagree and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. Blaze flicked his tail at Badger and the mare pinned back her ears. “I wish. . .” she trailed off, knowing it was stupid to even try to think about keeping the horses but she felt herself grimace and Bass reached over to touch her arm.

“Whoever gets them next will take care of them. Good horses are valuable.”

“I know. I just. . .it just feels like someone leaving again.” He leaned closer to kiss her on the cheek.

“Remember, when this is all over, we’ll be able to get that farm near Miles’ hotel and then we can get animals we can keep.”

She started to smile, and then cocked her head towards him. “When did we talk about the farm?” She’d always meant to discuss it with him but she honestly couldn’t remember the conversation.

“You mentioned it one day but Miles and I were talking on his birthday.”

She felt her mouth gape open. “I totally forgot about Miles birthday. Wait, what day was it?”

He shrugged. “You were keeping your distance from all of us. It was a few days before Jason yelled at me. He asked me not to say anything and considering what happened on his birthday with that bombing, we decided letting this one go by unremarked was a good thing. We’ll do something for both our birthdays next year.”

She couldn’t help notice the way Bass’ head turned towards her uncle who was riding near Jeremy, having some sort of low conversation and looking serious. She’d rarely seen Miles any other way other than the first day in the Chicago bar when he’d tried blowing her off. But he clearly took the role of self-appointed nation builder seriously. He’d been burned on it a few times and clearly was wary of becoming another government figurehead but between the Andovers and Patriots, no one seemed to be giving him the chance to be the disenchanted alcoholic he so clearly wanted to be.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how close you two are,” she commented and Bass shrugged.

“Well, you trail around after the asshole long enough and – as much as you hate him – you kind of get attached. Hell, he got Neville on our side again. Granted, you and Jeremy had a lot to do with that but who’d have thought we’d have all ended up on the same side again.”

Privately she marveled that the two of them were on the same side themselves but decided it was a bad time to point out that fact.

 

Jacksonville had clearly once been a huge city but most of what they passed through had been abandoned, the town collapsing in to a small area around a railroad station. It was well past dark when they rode into town and joined a group of other people setting up bedrolls near the shuttered office.

Rachel and Connor started something in a pot while Charlie helped get everything in their saddlebags folded up into the packs. Jeremy had disappeared soon after they got to town but he was back about an hour later, three men trailing after him who were clearly there to inspect the horses. Pearl was sold first, one of the men looking for a mount for his wife. The second man introduced himself as the part owner in a company trying to set up an express service and livery but Charlie focused on the third man, who was running his hands over Blaze’s rump.

“You looking for a good horse?” she asked and he shrugged, not unfriendly but clearly focused on the horse.

He finally turned towards her and nodded. “Yes. I’m a butcher. I’ll definitely take this one.”

She didn’t think she had fully appreciated Connor’s feeling about eating his own horse until that moment and she froze for an instant but the man started to laugh, his face morphing into a friendly grin. “I need a horse for my deliveries. He was yours, I take it?” She nodded, feeling her heart slam painfully back into rhythm. “He gentle?” She nodded again, still not trusting her voice and he smiled. “Good. My daughters are twelve and fourteen and they do most of my rounds for me while I work in the shop. It might be deliveries or bringing in the herds. Does he do harness? Or seem spooky around the smell of blood?”

“I’ve mostly ridden him but yeah, we’ve had him in a cart before. I’ve had deer carcasses on him before. And I drove a cart with a butchered steer on it.” She decided the small change of Connor’s horse that had taken the bullet meant for his rider to a steer would be forgivable if it didn’t bring up the idea of slaughtering horses, even if it was a little hypocritical because she’d not felt the least bit guilty dining on horsemeat for days after.

“Good. Sophie and Katherine will love him. They’ve been taking turns riding my gelding. In fact,” he glanced to where the livery-man was checking Max’s teeth. “I should probably get another one since you are selling at such good prices.”

“I hate to sell but if we take the train, there isn’t any way to take the horses with us,” she sighed and he nodded.

“Lots of folks do that. I’ve missed the last few times we’ve had groups with horses to sell.” He ruffled Blaze’s mane and she was relieved the horse turned to rub the side of his head on the man’s shoulder. “Any suggestions?”

She pointed to Badger. “That one. He,” she nodded at Blaze, “and Badger have spent a lot of time together. Though he does seem to get attached to Max sometimes.” She pointed at Miles’ mare and the man with her flashed a grin.

“Hand off, Paul,” he told the butcher. “This one’s mine.”

“Looks like Rob’s beaten me to it. Which one is Badger?”

She walked him over to the mare who ignored them both but didn’t seem to object when he run his hands down her legs. “She doesn’t seem to mind blood either that I’ve noticed.”

“Well I’ll take them both. And I promise, they’ll have a good home. Totally spoiled, probably,” and Charlie smiled.

“That means a lot to me.”

The livery owner had decided on everything left but Deacon so Jeremy took him and came back half hour later on foot. “He’s gone,” the Captain announced with a happy smirk, “to the owner of the local bar to haul beer barrels.”

The butcher hadn’t had the payment with him but when he returned shortly after Jeremy, he had two girls with him. They both had flaming red hair and pale skin dotted with freckles thought Charlie was surprised when she found out the taller girl – Sophie – was actually younger than her shorter, slighter sister. 

Sophie immediately claimed Blaze and while Katherine seemed less enthusiastic, Charlie saw her hand stroking Badger’s neck. The mare didn’t pay any attention to it at first but as Paul and Miles talked about the town, she noticed Badger’s weight shift off one hip and her shoulder drop a little till she was resting it against Katherine’s side.

Charlie couldn’t hide the grin and she caught Bass’ eye as he sniffed. “Traitor,” her husband muttered but she could hear the edge of relief in his voice. He’d been fond of Badger, she knew. Sophie had convinced Connor to give her a leg up and she was trotting Blaze bareback around the yard, the halter rope tied to each side of the halter as reins.

“Soph,” her father called, “get him saddled up.” Despite being calmer, Katherine had Badger saddled first and Charlie helped her adjust the stirrups up since they had been set for Bass.

“Hurry up, Kate,” Sophie shot, swinging into the saddle. She was about the same height as Charlie. “You’re taking forever,”

Katherine rolled her eyes but there was no heat to her, “Stop being such a brat, Brat,” and Charlie felt her breath catch, trying to keep the tears out of her eyes because she missed her brother so much. But she was able to get herself under control before the younger girl noticed anything and Sophie rode Blaze up.

“Last goodbye?” the girl asked, dismounting and handing the reins over and Charlie was surprised how calm she was. There was no denying she had gotten attached but part of her felt right leaving him behind, where she wouldn’t have to worry about stray bullets hitting him like Connor’s horse and she leaned in to kiss him on the nose.

“You have a good life, you hear,” she whispered. She’d watched Sophie ride and for all her enthusiasm, the girl had light hands. She’d been glad when Nora had stayed with them but a tiny part of her wished that her friend had gone to Texas with her sister after all and she could imagine a better life for Nora than bleeding out. It had saved all their lives and – if Nora had to die – Charlie was glad it was before she could learn that what they had done at the Tower had helped destroy Atlanta and Philadelphia.

She turned around to hand the reins back to the girl and she didn’t even have to choke down a knot at the impish smile that looked almost apologetic. “I’ll take good care of him,” the girl said and Charlie nodded.

“I know. I’m glad getting him. You just have to promise to love him.” She almost added, ‘like I did’ but the words died in her mouth. If someone had asked if she had loved Blaze, she would have denied it but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sometimes, she decided, it was okay if things – and people – she loved weren’t always with her. It felt like a surprisingly profound thought about a horse but she wondered if the concept had been forming since Gene had chosen to remain in Willoughby.

“I will,” the girl assured her, clearly missing Charlie’s internal turmoil and Charlie patted the gelding one last time before Paul – mounted double with Katherine – and his daughters rode out of the rail yard and Charlie turned to the pot bubbling on the fire.

“Dinner ready yet?” she asked and was surprised to see everyone staring at her like they were worried.

“Um, almost,” Connor said, scrambling over to stir the stew, but he kept darting glances at her. She wondered if she was horrible not to feel worse until she met Tom Neville’s gaze and the man gave her the slightest of nods. Tom, she realized, also seemed calmer than he had in days and she felt her smile bloom out, even if she knew she was showing more teeth than she needed. The nerves and frustrations had been because of the waiting, she decided, and she remembered Bass’s pleasure the morning they’d decided to tell Carissa who he was. He had been right that there was only so long they could delay before action felt better than more jockeying for tactical position. 

She decided not to explain to everyone who was looking so concerned why she started laughing and why Tom Neville was grinning back at her. Miles and Bass got it and Jeremy did too. Rachel was a fighter but not a warrior in the same sense. Aaron had always hated conflict, even if he was surprisingly resourceful, even while freaking out. Cynthia and Connor had dealt with skirmishes but were relatively new to this type of full war – she doubted Nunez had much problem with enforcement. What did surprise her, however, was that Jason didn’t seem to get it. They had once been so in synch prior to a fight that she felt like the last connection between them from the past severed with a small pang that only she felt. She wouldn’t try to deny that he was somehow part of the family she was trying to build, but any last lingering traces of regret they hadn’t worked was gone. 

 

She awoke to the most appalling whine-scream-whistle that made Charlie cringe – every cell in her body crackling in panic until she realized the last time she’d heard a train whistle had been the train taking Danny to Philadelphia and she forced herself to stand. None of them had undressed the night before and Miles was smirking at her, flashing a hand of train tickets like a poker hand.

“Were you going to let me sleep all day,” she grumbled, noticing they were the only two left in the area they’d camped.

“Why not?” He grabbed a heel of bread and handed it to her. “Nothing else to do until the train arrived.” She was folding her blankets, shoving them into the pack and missing her saddlebags that had given her extra room. “Besides, you never know when you’ll get the next chance to sleep again.”

“True,” she muttered around a mouthful of bread. “What time is it?”

The second whistle still made her jump but the sensation of déjà-vu only lasted a few seconds. The rumbling of the steam engine grew louder and she felt the ground start to shake beneath her.”

“Don’t know. Sometime in the morning.”

She decided to brave the outhouse that hadn’t been very clean the night before and it was worse but she also decided it was better than whatever buckets they’d get on the train.

She was back out again in time to watch the steam engine roll into the yard and resisted the urge to appear to notice the Patriot Soldiers who got out to stretch their legs on the platform. Tom walked past her, Cynthia clinging to his arm and even Charlie was startled by the apparent adoration in the school teacher’s face as she kept glancing up at him. 

Jeremy, Rachel and Bass weren’t far behind them and she fought down the flash of jealousy at the hand Bass had in Rachel’s back. Her mother’s shirt was loose, the skirt beneath it swollen around the midriff.

“You were busy while I was asleep,” she muttered and Miles shrugged. 

“Just you wait.” Jason passed in front of them, next to a stocky man and she felt her mouth gape as she recognized Aaron’s shirt and jacket, even if wouldn’t have known the clean-shaven face. “Yeah,” Miles said. “That surprised me too.”

“You can say that again,” she whispered. Connor was right behind them and Miles hand tightened on her arm as Connor stepped to other side.

“Okay,” Miles whispered. They walked past the Patriot taking tickets and the man didn’t seem to pay any attention to them after the most cursory first glance.

The rail car they were directed into had narrow seats and Charlie’s shoulders were jostled by Connor on one side and Miles on the other. She could see everyone else scattered around the car and one man near the back door rose to move to a free seat in the middle so that Rachel could have an aisle seat, even if it meant she was separated by a row from Jeremy and Bass. But her mother smiled, thanking the man warmly as she moved ponderously to settle herself into place.

 

“So,” Connor whispered, “looks like my Dad knocked up your Mom when we weren’t looking. Miles glared at him across here, even as Charlie had to fight not to smile.

“Not funny,” Miles hissed and Charlie dug her elbow gently into Connor’s side.

“Who’d have thought he could get jealous?”

Connor leaned a little closer but his whisper was pitched loud enough for Miles to hear. “I just can’t figure out about which one. Her or him.”

She actually laughed out loud before she caught herself and was rewarded by a grin from Connor and a glower from Miles.

“Can you two pretend to act like adults for a few minutes?”

“She’s touching my armrest,” Connor said, his voice back to normal but low.

Charlie wondered from the look on Miles’ face if they had pushed it a little too far but her uncle’s reply of, “You kids knock it off or I’m turning this train around,” had her trying not to laugh. Miles sighed, leaning his head back against the hard seat of the train. “It’s going to be a long few days.

 

She shouldn’t have slept the night before they’d left, Charlie decided the middle of the night. Her backside felt permanently numb and she wanted so desperately to stretch out she would have been willing to have lied down in the aisle and let people step on her if it had been permitted. She was tired, but not tired enough to get passed the soreness and muscles cramping from lack of movement. The hard seat felt like torture on her back and butt and she shifted her weight again, even though she knew from hours of doing it that it wouldn’t really work. Beside her she heard and felt Connor doing the same and she finally gave up and opened her eyes.

There was a single candle hung in lanterns at either end of the car and she could see her fellow passengers hunched in their seats, most of them probably having little better luck sleeping than she was. It was too dark to see anything outside other than the vaguest shapes as they swept past them and Charlie grimaced. At least in the day she’d been able to pretend to distract herself by staring out the windows on either side of the car.

She yawned and turned to see Miles grimace at her as he stretched his shoulders as much as he was able to. “You doing okay, Kid,” he asked softly and she shrugged.

“I’ll live. Not sure I really want to though.”

“I feel for you. But it was a day on a train for two weeks on horseback. Back before the Blackout it would have taken about half the time but they had engines that went faster. Still, makes me remember how much I hated roadtrips when I was younger.”

“Did you take many of them,” she asked and he nodded.

“Yeah, my mom liked to see places so Ben and I got thrown in the backseat. I don’t think I appreciated the experience at the time, even though I thought it was kind of neat, later.”

"Tell me about them, would you? Grandma and Grandpa. Dad would never talk much about them and I don’t remember them at all.”

Miles snorted softly. “That’s not very surprising, considering Mom died about a year after you were born and Dad died the next year.” When she didn’t say anything he grimaced. “Your grandmother came from Boston. Her dad was a banker and he was going to give his little girl everything but he disowned her when she eloped when she was eighteen to marry the guy the landscape company hired to cut their lawn.”

She knew Danny had been named after Ben and Miles’ father just as her own middle name was the same as her paternal grandmother but other than naming their children Charlotte Elizabeth and Daniel Gene she could only remember thinking it was strange that neither of her parents had talked much about their own parents, particularly after the Blackout.

“Did she blame him for that? Grandpa?”

"He blamed himself. He was always trying to give her the things she’d given up. . .you could say he was obsessed with it. Worked himself half to death to give her everything she didn’t care about. She just wanted him around. He’d spend so many extra hours at work so we could like in the nicest neighborhood in Jasper. Everyone else around us growing up had parents who were doctors or lawyers and there were Ben and I, whose Dad sold cars. No matter what she looked like during the day, cleaning up the place, she was always dressed up nice for dinner, even though Dad usually only made it to half of them, in case people came to look at cars in the evening. She’d usually start drinking about the time the roast dried out. But she’d always warm something up for him, no matter how late he got home. When they found out she had cancer, he did everything for her. He was so convinced, even when the rest of us could see she was dying, that they were going to beat it together. Ben and I were surprised he even made it a year after she died. The day after her funeral the man who had never stopped. . .sat down in a chair and never got out of it again. Not in any way that really mattered at least.”

“I wish I could remember them,” she sighed and Miles shook his head.

“I do too. If you could remember the good parts where they were so happy together people around them couldn’t help but be happy too. But they both felt like they’d ruined each other’s lives. He was smart. . .at least as smart as Ben and he had always planned to go to college but he got that first job selling cars and he made good money at it because he worked so hard but he was so scared that if he quit and went to school he wouldn’t be able to take care of her like he thought he should. What can I say other than they were Mathesons.”

She remembered Jeremy’s lecture about embracing her own happiness and part of her wondered how many generations of guilt she had pressing behind her. It would end with her, she resolved. No matter what happened, if she had Bass survived to have children, they would have parents who would pretend they didn’t hate themselves, no matter how hard they really might.

“Tell me about a happy roadtrip then.”

Her back and butt still hurt and the edge of the seat was pressing a new cramp into the backs of her thighs but she listened to Miles’ voice before she finally dropped off the sleep.

 

They stopped twice in four hours the next morning and Charlie happily took a few minutes on the platform to stretch and try to work out the knots in her back and shoulders. She could tell Tom was getting edgy again and she made her way over to him, even though she kept her back to him.

“Come to check up on me?” he growled and she could tell he had shifted slightly away from her.

“Just wanted to make sure you knew I’m still planning on living up to my side of the bargain.

He didn’t reply but she heard his soft sigh before Cynthia came swooping over, cooing over Tom like she really adored him. She had, Charlie reflected, vastly underestimated Cynthia’s acting abilities.

She lingered as long as she dared at the second stop since the Patriot in their cabin had announced that it was the last one that anybody would be allowed off the train unless it was their final destination. Miles estimated they had about four hours left before they were in D.C. but it stretched to nearly six hours as some of their stops took longer.

 

Charlie finally managed to fall asleep again mid-afternoon and it wasn’t until Miles nudged her awake that she realized they’d finally arrived.

She should have felt nervous, she realized. Their plan depended on finding an opportunity to kidnap the President – potentially the most guarded man in the city – while rescuing a political prisoner, find proof the Patriots had been behind the Blackout and the bombings, with only a single ally inside that they hadn’t seen in more than a month all while assuming they hadn’t just walked into a trap set just for them. And yet, for some reason, she found herself trying to keep the smile off her face as she shuffled into the rail yard.

Washington D.C. – at least this part of it – looked no different from any other city she’d seen other than there were a lot more Patriots and the people looked like they were giving them a wide berth. Tom had finally put the hood up on his jacket -- he had a much higher risk of being recognized here in D.C. – but Jeremy led them off the main road into a series of allies until they were standing in an alley where the back door of a three story brick building was a blank in front of them but Jeremy hammered on it and an Asian woman answered it, her face wreathing in smiles.

“Mr. Baker. What a pleasure.” She looked a little startled when she saw the rest of them and she grimaced. “More people that aren’t here?”

“Aggie, my love, you know me well. Is he here?”

“He’s at the front desk. You want me to send him in here?”

Jeremy shook his head. “No. We’ll go up the back stairs but if you could let him know I’m back. Um, how many rooms can I get?”

“We’re pretty empty right now so how many do you want?”

“Five should be plenty. For now. I might need more later.”

“Just go ahead a take the whole third floor for now. No one’s up there. You can negotiate rates with him yourself.”

There was something she was missing, Charlie realized. Jeremy was avoiding using someone’s name on purpose and she began to feel the trepidation that most people should have been feeling for the last few days. He wouldn’t sell them out – she trusted him too much for that. But he was definitely not telling everyone the whole story and she could see Miles starting to look a little suspicious as well.

Nonetheless, Miles followed Jeremy through the kitchen – after two days of whatever they’d gotten into their packs before they’d boarded the train the simmering stew smelled amazing – to a set of old wooden stairs. They climbed to the third floor and it opened into what looked like a normal hallway. The inn, Charlie realized, was larger than she had first thought and she realized it stretched into the building next to it. Jeremy led them to a door and produced a key to what turned out to be a perfectly ordinary sitting room. She could see a bedroom through another open door and Jeremy dropped his pack.

“Okay, everyone, get comfy. Whether we stay here depends on the proprietor and. . .well, everyone remember to be on their best behavior, no matter how much you hate him. But we’ve all changed so just keep an open mind.”

"Jeremy, what are you talking about?” Rachel said, her voice displaying her irritation. “If this person is a problem, why didn’t you tell us about it before now.”

“Because certain people might not be here if they knew.”

Miles, Bass and Tom were all glaring at Jeremy and he winced, reinforcing Charlie’s growing suspicion it was someone from the Militia.

“Stop grandstanding, Baker,” Tom growled. “Just tell us.”

“I’d rather. . .ah, well at least he’s still prompt,” Jeremy said as someone knocked on the door and he sent her a pointed glance and she walked over to open it. “Just remember, we’re all friends here.” He didn’t add ‘I hope’ but she could still here it and she wondered if Jeremy wanted her to get the door because she was the person Miles and Bass were both least likely to try to shoot around.

She didn’t recognize the man at the door. He looked like an ordinary person, a little younger than she’d expected with a receding hairline and over-long sideburns. He smiled at her and she could see the interest in his eyes for a second as he stepped inside.

“Hey, Jer. Aggie said you. . . .” He broke off, face going dead white. He started to back out of the door but Charlie stepped behind him, blocking him as the man gasped, “You. . .” He looked absolutely terrified and he was staring at Bass.

Her husband looked equally surprised but he wasn’t scared. He was pissed, she could tell and she watched Jason look disgusted as he turned to Jeremy. “This was your contact? Has this been your plan the whole time? What a –”

“Enough,” Miles snapped, his voice cutting the air like a whip-blow and the man went even whiter, which Charlie hadn’t thought was possible, glancing between Tom, Miles and Bass like he was seeing nightmares.

“Miles?” the man whispered, his gaze flipping rapidly between Miles, Monroe, Jeremy and Tom.

She had seen him before, Charlie realized, just for a few moment when Tom had burst into the control room in the Tower, right before the power had gone out again.

“Doug,” Jeremy said softly, “we need your help. We all need your help.”

“No,” the man whispered. “No. Get out. All of you. Get out of my house.” The last was clearly meant to sound resolute but came out in more of a pathetic whimper. “Please.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Tom said, stepping forward. “Do you think I’d be here with him if any of us had a choice?”

The man whipped around and Charlie saw actual anger flaring in his eyes. “You? You’d change to any side that suits you.”

“Doug.” Jeremy’s voice sounded sincere, “you’re probably right there. But what about me? What about Miles? Do you think we’d be here if Monroe hadn’t changed? And you remember Rachel Matheson, right? Think she’d be with him if there wasn’t something worse.”

Doug had turned to stare at Bass and Charlie could see the two men in profile as they were glaring at each other. Bass finally sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Riley. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” the man hissed as Charlie realized this must be the Captain Riley that had sold Bass out to Tom; the reason he’d lost control of them before the Tower.

His glare went back to Tom. “You think I don’t know why you’re them? Well I know exactly why. But if you think he’s going to be able to stop your wife’s trial you’re even more delusional than you were in Colorado.”

“What trial?” Tom asked and she heard the panic in his voice and she could see Riley’s disbelief.

The one for treason. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Rescuing Julia is one of the reasons he’s with us,” Charlie said, stepping forward. “But we didn’t come only for that. You are one of the few people who know Foster and Monroe didn’t bomb Atlanta and Philadelphia. The guy who did?” She waited for him to nod. “The Patriots were behind it.”

She didn’t think she imagined his whimper, even though it was barely a sound in his throat. “I don’t care,” he finally managed to whisper but Jeremy shook his head.

“Doug, if I thought that was true, I wouldn’t have brought them here. The trial is tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes.” Riley was looking around the room, his eyes flicking between them all. They hadn’t introduced Aaron, Cynthia or Connor yet and Charlie remembered Bass telling her once that he’d had Captain Riley looking for his son with Emma. She wondered if the news Bass had finally found his son would reassure him at all.

“The President going to be there?”

"I suppose so. Oh, shit,” Riley looked ready to hyperventilate. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

“Kidnap, actually,” Miles said, shrugging one shoulder. “None of us want to be the figurehead of whatever government comes after the Patriots so we decided to just take their figurehead from them and use him ourselves. We might actually get a chance at this trial.”

“I know you had family in Philly,” Bass said, his voice soft but tense. “Friends. Your home. And they destroyed it all. Don’t tell me that doesn’t mean something to you.”

Riley closed his eyes and Charlie could sympathize with the headache she knew he had to be experiencing. “How do I know. . . .”

“That I won’t go nuts again? Come on, Riley, you remember I always did better with Miles around. And Jeremy. Tom’s with me again. I found my boy. The one you were looking for.” So Bass had thought of that as well, Charlie realized. He jerked his head towards Connor and Riley stared at him as if unwittingly mesmerized. “I have something to live for now. More than one. Miles, my boy. My wife.” She saw Riley look to Cynthia and Charlie lifted her hand to flash her ring. Riley looked blank for a moment, then glanced sharply at Rachel, then over at Jason, who was clearly practicing looking stoic and almost succeeding. 

“Now,” Tom said, his voice dark, “that we have that all worked out,” Bass and Riley both looked like neither of them had worked out anything, but Neville continued on, “why don’t you go ahead and tell me everything you know about Julia’s trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short chapter. I have some of the next chapter written but it's on a different computer that I don't get to internet very often.
> 
> Thanks for all the good wishes for my finger. It has healed well the the nail is even coming back, which was a pleasant surprise, Life here continues to be fun, even if I am currently falling asleep because I stayed up half the night writing this (If I go to bed in the next 15 minutes I have 4 hours before I have to get up (to be honest, I was waiting for information and writing while I was waiting so I couldn't have gone to bed earlier even if I wanted to).
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this so far and please remember how much I like comments.


	46. Chapter 46

Try and keep your stupid to a minimum, Charlie thought to herself, recalling Miles’ words to her the night she had left Willoughby. She’d been thinking of them, seeing Monroe at the roulette wheel in New Vegas, just before she’d arranged the tryst that was meant to end with his death. At the time, she couldn’t decide if Miles would approve of what she meant to do or not.

Watching Tom pace the room, the way Riley’s eyes darted between him and Bass, she saw the same look on Miles’ face as the night he’d given her that advice. It was the look he usually had when he knew people were going to do something dumb and as much as he wanted to stop them, he knew he couldn’t.

Her head was aching and she wanted nothing more than to go find a bed and sleep but Neville’s voice, sharp and angry, cut across her senses like a flail. He was nose-to-nose with Rachel for some reason and she realized she’d not been paying attention to their conversation for a while.

“The plan, Tom,” Miles interrupted, “is to kidnap the President. Not to kill him. They’d still kill Julia long before we could even get to her. As good as we are, we’re still only,” he paused for a moment, brow crinkling “only eleven people.”

Riley’s eyes widened in surprise and he shook his head in what was probably rampant denial. “Ten, Miles. Don’t include me in this.”

Miles sneer clearly expressed his lack of appreciation for Riley’s attempt at neutrality and Charlie realized she actually felt sorry for them both. Miles was trying to hold Tom together and that was clearly no easy task. . .but she’d been in Riley’s place not so many months ago; desperately trying to kill Monroe only to end up taking him to Miles and her mother. . .taking him home, she decided, though she’d had no idea that it would end up the way it did.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Miles,” Tom shot back. “You’ve done a whole lot more with a whole lot less. Hell, you got into and out of Philly with Nora, Aaron and Charlie. . .back when Charlie was so wet you could practically shoot snipe off her.

She was entirely sure what snipe were but she decided to ignore what was clearly not a compliment -- partly because he was right.

“That was Philadelphia. It was my city. I don’t know D.C. the same way. And if you recall, that whole fiasco ended with my nephew getting killed.” She saw Miles flinch as Rachel’s shoulders hunched but Tom also looked a little deflated. “I’m not saying we’re going to do nothing. . .just that maybe a frontal assault might not be the wisest choice here.”

“I think,” Jeremy’s tone was quiet, as if he was trying to sound reasonable, “we should try to make contact with Carissa. She might be able to help us out.”

“Your pet Patriot turncoat?” Tom sneered. “You sure she’s stayed bought since you last saw her?”

“Well, we’re not all in a Patriot prison,” Jeremy pointed out.

“You’d know all about turncoats, wouldn’t you?” Bass muttered and Charlie watched Riley flinch at the same time Tom crowded close to Bass.

“What would you do, Monroe, if it was your wife? Not so easy to stand by and do nothing, is it?”

She rose from her seat on the couch, walking over to the two men but she ignored Bass to touch Tom on the arm, even though Bass’ looked like a puppy she’d just kicked. “I promised you we’d do what we can. And we will. But Miles is right, a raid on the trial isn’t going to get us very far. Even if we did manage to get her out, they’d get us before we could get out of the city. But that doesn’t mean we’ve given up. We just have to figure out a way to do both -- kidnap the President and rescue Julia at the same time.”

Both men looked a little more mollified and she glanced around the room. “Open to ideas, here. Anyone?”

She was met by silence but Tom no longer looked homicidal -- at least no more than usual. She almost missed Cynthia’s indrawn breath and raised head but then the teacher dropped her gaze back to the floor. “Cynthia?”

“Nothing,” the woman muttered. “It was a stupid idea.”

“Honey,” Jeremy said, “even a stupid idea is an improvement to what we’ve had to work with so far. Go ahead and share it because even if it is bad, it might help one of the rest of us to come up with something.”

“You’re looking at this like it’s two problems when it might just be one.” Cynthia took a deep breath before continuing. “If you kidnap the President, what are the odds everyone will be so focused on that they’ll forget about Julia entirely.”

One of Tom’s eyebrows went up as if he was impressed but he growled, “That’s a pretty big chance. Particularly when her trial is tomorrow.”

“She’s going on trial for treason. And the jury has been replaced with the President, Dolye and Allenford, right?” Riley nodded confirmation. “Well they can’t just sentence her without some sort of deliberation, can they? I’m wondering if, when they do the deliberation, it might just be the three of them in there. That’s less people than normal and it’s a public trial, so the chance of getting close is higher than average. Why don’t we just kidnap him from the trial.” When no one spoke she shook her head. “See what I mean. It’s a dumb idea because I’m not sure how we’d get out with him again and the odds of getting in without being recognized is pretty low so --”

She broke off when Jeremy walked over and kissed her firmly on the cheek. “That’s why I love having civilians around. They sometimes come up with the most harebrained schemes that just might work. Miles is right, twelve people can’t do a frontal assault. But it’s possible a few can manage something better.”

“Jason and I are out,” Tom said, his voice bitter. “We’d be spotted in an instant.”

“Same here,” Jeremy sighed. “I’ve only met Davis a few times but he knows my face. And while they obviously didn’t know what Monroe looked like when we were in Willoughby, they’ve had plenty of time to get a sketch of him since from someone who was there in Texas. Miles, you’re out for the same reason.”

“How is that possible?” Cynthia asked. “You two ran an entire Republic. Carver’s face is on everything. Newspapers, flyers, a brief failed attempt at re-establishing paper currency. Why didn’t anyone have pictures of you?”

“I always hated cameras,” Bass confessed. “Even from the time I was young. Avoided them whenever I could. Miles and I both were always ducking out of photos or hiding behind Ben when our parents insisted. It just got to be habit, even when we got older. After we started the Republic I figured a good way to avoid assassins was for them not to know exactly who they were looking for. And if I really needed to prove who I was, the tattoo was good enough.”

“They could have gotten sketches of all you,” Riley said but Jeremy shook his head.

It’s possible, of course but I doubt it. They were so focused on Bass. Even more than Miles. Most likely because they were planning on pinning Monroe as the fall-guy since Cuba. The rest of them are probably safe.”

“He was my boss’ boss,” Rachel said suddenly. “I went to a party at his house once. A barbecue. Fourth of July, I think. Isn’t that ironic?”

“Aaron probably is a bad choice too,” Tom pointed out. “He’s been on enough magazine covers that people might recognize him too.”

“Well that leaves me and Charlie,” Connor said. “Two enough?”

“Three,” Cynthia added. At Connor’s skeptical glance she shrugged. “Maybe I’m not as good in a fight as you two. But I can do a pretty decent job as a decoy.” She jerked her head towards Jason. “I got him into that alley in Delhi, didn’t I?”

Jason nodded grudging agreement but he glared down at Cynthia. “Yeah, but I’ve always gotten distracted easily when it comes to Charlie. You’re going to be going up against guys who don’t have any weaknesses. And my mother’s life is at stake.”

Charlie was surprised to see Cynthia’s bitter smile. “You’re wrong. Everyone has a weakness.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know what theirs are.”

The teacher snorted. “Really? Davis’ is power and how he’s trying so desperately to hold on to his. Victor Doyle’s is his vision to re-educate the world. . .and potentially your mother as well. Allenford’s will be the fact he killed his wife and -- if we can figure out a way to exploit it -- his son. Yes,” she snapped into the stunned silence, “I’ve been listening to what everyone has been talking about all these weeks.”

“Yes,” Miles said, and Charlie could see the respect on his face, “apparently you have.” Even Riley looked interested as Miles turned to Jeremy. “We’re going to have to come up with a more solid plan but this is a pretty good place to start.”

“Are we sure,” Aaron sounded plaintive, “that they couldn’t have gotten any sketches of any of you from one of the Patriots that was in Willoughby. Or at least a good description.”

“I. . . .” Riley trailed off as everyone turned to stare at him and he finally sighed, as if by speaking he’d finally crossed the irreversible line to helping them. “I might be able to help with that, if you’re not too attached to your hair color.”

 

The White House needed a coat of paint and the grass was still overgrown but someone had clearly been making an effort at cleaning it up. The shrubs had been neatly cut and Charlie could see the evidence of more than one burn-pile.

Cynthia’s nearly white-blonde hair still looked odd to Charlie but she touched her own reddish locks. She wasn’t sure what Aggie had mixed together to get Cynthia’s hair to turn color but the teacher’s hair looked a little more frizzy than normal. Her own hair dye had been dried, powdered henna. She’d been surprised such a thing was even available but the shop where Aggie had taken them, the saleswoman had intricate designs all over her hands that Charlie had thought were tattoos but that Aggie assured her was also henna.

The podium was set up on the main lawn and Charlie wondered for a moment who the chained woman they were leading toward it was until she realized it was Julia Neville. She’d seen Nora -- all dark circles around her eyes and swelling fever-blisters by her mouth -- when Sandbourne had gotten her away from the Militia -- and had been expecting something like that but the woman was nearly a walking skeleton in a drab shift.

She heard a single intake of breath from Cynthia as one of the guards handed Julia a glass of water that she gulped at frantically -- like she’d been thirsting to death as well as clearly being starved. It was a good thing, she realized, they’d decided it was too risky for either Tom or Jason to attend. She could barely resist protesting and she’d barely liked Julia.

“We may have a bit of a problem,” Cynthia murmured in her ear. “If they offer her a deal to denounce her husband and son as traitors? Where does that leave us if there’s no deliberation phase?”

Riley had gotten a Patriot uniform from somewhere for Connor. Her step-son’s job was to get into the tent set aside for the President, Doyle and Allenford and dose the President’s drink with mixture of digitalis before getting out before the symptoms started. The racing heart would no doubt cause a panic and Cynthia would volunteer to assist as a doctor who happened to be in the audience. Her bag contained a few remedies that would lessen the symptoms but she would insist the President was more than likely having a mild heart attack and that she had the aspirin at her clinic that would prevent him from having additional heart damage but that there wasn’t time to send a runner for it. They’d reconnoitered a suitably private street for Miles, Bass and Tom to ambush whatever guards would be accompanying the President.

“We’ll figure something out,” Charlie whispered back. Julia had proven surprisingly resilient from everything Charlie had ever heard. . .but she was also famous for her survival instinct as well. She could only hope the obvious signs of abuse would be enough to tip favor away from the Patriots. There were probably a few hundred people seated in spindly plastic chairs on the lawn, watching what was supposed to be justice.

“Mrs. Doyle,” President Davis intoned, looking and sounding like a benevolent grandfather, “do you understand why you are here?”

Julia tried to say something but no sound came out and the President gestured for someone to refill her glass of water. Her hands were shaking and Charlie was pretty sure she spilled almost as much as she drank but the dis-used voice hissed, “Mrs. Neville. And yes, I do.”

Cynthia’s eyebrows rose in a look Charlie was pretty sure was respect and she tamped down her own smile. It appeared that it didn’t matter what they did to her; Julia Neville was still a force to be reckoned with.

“I’m sorry,” Davis said, sounding startled and sad. “What did you say?”

“My name is Mrs. Neville, not Mrs. Doyle. I believed my husband was dead but he wasn’t so my marriage to Victor Doyle was never legal.” Her voice was still toneless but it was a little stronger and Charlie was pretty sure everyone heard her clearly. The entire audience was barely breathing as Victor Doyle nearly turned purple in his seat next to Davis.

“So you realize the charge of Treason against the United States Government. Now, I understand that you were forced into it by your first husband. That he threatened to expose you if you didn’t collude with him. That, terrified he would ruin your marriage, you went along with his plans, hoping you’d be able to find a way out of the nightmare he’d forced you into. That he found you when the Chief of Staff died and attempted to exploit your husband’s position.”

She thought Julia was choking for a moment before she realized it was laughter.

“Tom killed the Chief of Staff for me . . . so that Victor would get promoted and we could use that later.” 

Both Davis and Doyle looked startled and Cynthia frowned slightly, leaning closer to whisper, “Why would she admit that?” Charlie wasn’t sure but she’d never known Julia to speak idly either.

“So he murdered the Chief of Staff. Was he trying to get a further hold on you?” Allenford had clearly recovered a little before Doyle or Davis.

“No. He did it because I asked him to. I should have had him kill all three of you.” She smiled, revealing bleeding gums. Everyone looked startled and she rushed on. “I thought Monroe had really gone crazy when Atlanta was bombed and when the Patriots arrived I did what I had to in order to survive. But it was you, not Monroe and Foster that destroyed Atlanta and Philadelphia. And my husband -- my real husband -- and son had proof of what you were doing so you killed them both.”

She was forcing them to executing her, Charlie realized. She thought she had nothing left and hoped her sacrifice would eventually help avenge them. She remembered what Jeremy had said about wondering what Tom or Julia would do if they had nothing left to lose. 

One of the guard’s finally recovered enough to backhand her and Davis was pounding a gavel but Julia’s voice still rang out -- nearly a scream. “So yes, if you are the United States government then I am gladly guilty of treason after what you did to my son. What they’ll do to all your sons.”

Even chained it took two people to wrestle her to the floor and get a gag on her. They stood her back up in front of Davis. He was clearly livid and trying to conceal it. “Well, Mrs. Neville. I see your husband, Tom Neville deceived you and poisoned your mind; just like he did your son. You leave me no choice to sentence you to death -- sentence to be carried out by firing squad at dawn. I would ask if you have any last words but I will spare us all your lies.” But she saw him glance at the crowd, as if suddenly nervous. There had to be nearly two hundred people in attendance. Charlie could barely see her as the guard dragged her back and David shrugged. “Ladies and Gentlemen, never forget, our enemies still circle to drag us back down into the darkness. This session is adjourned.”

It was as he was headed out the back that Charlie caught sight of Carissa in her favorite non-uniform of slacks and a sweater and she darted away from Cynthia to grab the Patriot Captain by the elbow. Carissa’s eyes widened but she jerked her head towards a door. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” she said, her voice raised. “I need you to come with me for a moment. Pearson,” she said and a young man came over to her. “I need to interview this witness. Get me a room ready.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Charlie drawled, trying not to sound too eager or scared. “Can my sister come too? Hate to get separated from her. Carissa glanced over at Cynthia, then nodded.

“Of course. She may be able to provide additional detail.”

They followed Pearson towards what was clearly a service entrance to the White House and the young man led them into a room with a low table and a few chairs. “Can I get you anything, Ma’am?” he asked Carissa and she shook her head.

“Take a message to my father that I won’t be meeting him for lunch.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” The man walked out and Carissa locked the door behind him.

“What the hell, Charlie?” Carissa snapped but she grabbed both of them in something that was almost a hug. “I was expecting you two weeks ago? I thought you were all dead or something.”

“No, just delayed.”

“Please tell me you’re all here now and Miles has some kind of a plan? Is that permanent?” She gestured at Cynthia’s hair and Charlie smiled. She’d missed Carissa’s non sequiturs.

“Yes,” Cynthia sighed. “But it’ll grow out eventually. We were trying not to get recognized in case they had descriptions or Truman was around.”

“Truman has been stalling coming back to D.C. Big surprise. Not.”

“Our plan,” Charlie said, “was to wait until they retired to deliberate and then grab the President. Their security seemed a little lax around the other side.” Carissa shrugged, as if she had already gone over that. “But the trial got abbreviated, though I can’t say it wasn’t for a good cause if people listen to her.”

“Fuck,” Carissa sighed. “She won’t live till morning. Doyle will probably go strangle her and then say she hung herself in the cell. She certainly rubbed his face in something shitty. That’s not your ex’s mother, is it?”

“It is. And they’re here with us. Which is part of why we’re delayed. We didn’t get here till yesterday and when we found out about the trial, we had to grab Julia before it was too late.”

“That’s got to be awkward. Ex-boyfriend, new lover.”

“Ex-boyfriend, new husband actually.” She held up her left hand. Carissa’s eyes widened at the sight of the ring.

“Um. . .which one did you marry?” She sounded suddenly wary and Charlie smiled. 

“Bass. We were married before we even left Texas.” 

“Good. Sorry for being nosy but I had this sudden vision of you taking off with an old fling. I don’t even know what we’d do with Monroe.”

“Shoot him in his sleep. That’s what Jeremy keeps telling me, at least.” It was almost sad to watch Carissa brighten for an instant then her expression even out, as if she just remembered she and Jeremy were no longer together. 

“I wonder how many people will listen to Julia?” Cynthia commented and Carissa shrugged.

“You might be surprised. A woman in that position will usually say whatever it takes to survive and be fed. For her to be willing to die to get her message out? And things. . .things are not as good here in D.C. as the image is trying to project. Texas coming out so strongly against the Patriots has destabilized them a lot. Conditions here are lousy. The warlords coming down from Canada are out of control, slavers are increasing outside the city itself. And Davis’ major advantage -- the fact he thought he had Horn to turn the power back on -- well, rumors coming of Shreveport is that Horn is dead. Davis sent a message to bring Garrett Williamson back but he’s not even acknowledged it yet.”

“Muscular man, brown hair, cyanide tooth?”

“That sounds about right.”

“Yeah, he’s dead. That’s how I know about the cyanide tooth.”

Carissa huffed a sound that might have been a laugh. “Well it has Davis in a panic. He’s seeing traitors in the walls now. You said Miles and Bass were planning on grabbing him in deliberation. Where are they now?”

Charlie shrugged. “Improvising by now, I’m sure. Connor’s waiting in that tent where the President was supposed to deliberate a verdict but his orders were to fall back and let Miles know if anything went wrong as soon as it went wrong. If word’s gotten to Neville that Julia’s going to be executed they’re probably sitting on him. “

“I hope so.” There was a wariness to Cynthia’s voice that made Charlie look at the teacher. “I haven’t known him long but from what I can tell, everything for him hinges on her. He’ll do what it takes to save her, no matter who it means betraying.”

“Shit,” Charlie swore. “She’s right. He’s done it before too. Is there any way we can get her out?”

Carissa looked like she’d eaten something that disagreed with her but she shrugged. “We might. But it tips our hand. You might have to choose between Julia or Davis. Because once you grab her, you won’t get a second chance at him.”

She wanted Miles, Charlie realized, to tell her what to do. In the larger picture, clearly it was abducting Davis. But Tom Neville’s support depending on Julia and she wasn’t sure what would happen without him. She took a deep breath, listening to Miles’ voice in her head lecturing her but through it all she could hear him telling Nora, ‘I’m not leaving you’ and she nodded. “Julia.”

“Fuck, I was afraid you were going to say that,” Carissa muttered. “Charlie, any chance I can talk you out of that?”

“Not a chance.”

“Yeah, I was afraid of that too. You know this is a bad idea, right. She’s just one person. Think what it would do to Bass if you were dead.”

To Bass, to Miles, to Rachel. But they’d promised Tom they’d save Julia and she’d seen the look on Doyle’s face. She doubted the man was going to wait for morning. And if Bass would be unstable without her, how much worse would Tom be without Julia. “I don’t have a choice.” 

“Are you sure this isn’t some way of trying to impress your ex-boyfriend?” Carissa shot back and Charlie whipped around to face her. 

Carissa fell back a step, her back against a wall that Charlie vaguely noted had a delicate blue wallpaper, a little faded and worn but somehow still pretty despite the shabbiness. “This has nothing to do with Jason. And this has everything to do with Jason.” The Captain looked confused. “We made a promise to him and Tom both. What if it was your mother? Would you trust someone who left her to die? We need them. So we need her.”

“This isn’t more of the whole fucked-up family thing is it?” Carissa sighed and Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I must have Stockholm syndrome,” Carissa muttered. “Cynthia, how did we not notice the whole lot of them were completely crazy?”

Cynthia’s smile was broad as she leaned back in her chair. “Because they do the right thing. It usually doesn’t end well for them. . .but they seem to try it a lot.”

“So no use counting on you to be the voice of reason then, is it?”

 

The story they evolved was flimsy at best, hasty and rushed as it was, but Carissa escorted them down to the basement that was filled with re-bar cages; makeshift cells. Cynthia recoiled, looking around her in obvious revulsion but Carissa glared at her and she schooled her face back to blankness. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I just never pictured anything like this at the White House.”

Carissa’s frown slipped and she leaned in to whisper, “you have no idea. I almost puked when I saw these. . .if you were ever in that factory Titus Andover used. . .well, clearly, same maker. Cages are identical. I think the last part of me -- the one that was hoping you were all crazy and I’d been brainwashed -- died when I saw these.”

They walked down the corridor, Charlie trying not to look at the cages that were occupied. They’d come back for them later, she promised herself, ruthlessly suppressing the guilt.

There was a guard at the end of the row -- a young man whose eyes didn’t quite track right -- and he saluted when he saw Carissa. “Captain Bailey. What can I do for you?” He seemed to notice Charlie and Cynthia for the first time. “Need a cell?”

“No. This woman here is Mrs. Neville’s sister.” She gestured at Cynthia. “She’s a loyal Patriot and she’s hoping we can get Mrs. Neville to change her mind. It won’t save her life but we can promise her a quicker death. The President and Mr. Doyle’s orders.” She held out a piece of paper that she had assured Charlie only Victor Doyle and Jack Davis would be able to identify as fake.

The guard shrugged, as if he really could care less. “End room on the right. We’ve had Mrs. Neville in there for the last few weeks on the President’s orders that she not have contact with any other prisoners. . .just the one.”

“What one?” Carissa asked and the man shrugged again.

“Don’t know. We just had orders to leave the room strictly alone. Someone for Mr. Doyle that he had brought in a few months ago. He has special handlers who take in food. Sometimes they have us clear the area to move her so I’ve never seen her.” For the first time he looked hesitant. “I’m surprised he hasn’t sent one of them with you.”

Charlie felt Cynthia tense next to her but Carissa mirrored the man’s earlier shrug. “He just listened to his wife denounce him in public and get sentenced to death. Bound to have been a bad day. I was hoping to get this done without having to disturb him any further . . . but go ahead and call him if you need to.”

The guard sighed and shrugged -- Charlie wasn’t sure if he was that apathetic or if it was nearly a nervous tick. “No, go ahead and get it over with. But be careful in the doorway and yell if there are any problems.”

“Thanks.” Charlie and Cynthia kept their heads lowered as Carissa smiled and walked them down the row, past the rest of the cages to a heavy wooden door with an iron latch and an old padlock. Carissa pulled out a set of keys and moved to block the guard’s view -- as if she was using her keys -- of Charlie stepping in to pick the lock. It was a skill she was pleased she hadn’t lost -- Miles had spent hours teaching her. 

“Any ideas about this other prisoner,” Cynthia whispered and Carissa grimaced.

“No clue. But probably someone important too.”

The lock clicked and Charlie handed it over, stepping back to let Carissa slide the door open. It was a large room -- not what Charlie had expected in a basement. There was a single mattress, a tin bucket that judging by the smell was the room’s latrine but was otherwise surprisingly clean. The only light came from a hole in the ceiling that had bars over it and what was evidently a window in the room above. There was a second set of blankets dropped on the floor -- as if someone had hastily added another occupant. But Charlie noted everything vaguely, because most obvious was the fact that the room housed neither Julia Neville nor any other prisoner.

Carissa stood, blinking in the dim light and surprised but Cynthia stepped past her, pulling the door shut behind them. Carissa tensed, like she wanted to throw it open again but then she snorted. “Okay, so either they’ve made me and this was a trap to get me into a cell. . .or our mystery prisoner has some skills.”

“Well,” Cynthia said, “why don’t you go stand outside. If he asks, tell that guard the other prisoner is asleep or something and you’re letting me talk to my sister alone.”

“You know this could be a trap,” Charlie hissed and Cynthia shook her head.

“When you’ve had as many students as I have, you get to know when someone is trying to trick you. I really think he believes there are two people in here. But if I’m wrong at least you’re on the outside.”

“Great, you and Tom Neville both can tell when people are lying,” Charlie muttered. “Carissa, she’s right. Give us a few minutes to try to figure out how they got out.”

The obvious answer was the air-vent but the screws were still firmly in place from inside the room. Nothing was hidden under the mattress or along any of the walls and Charlie was starting to get tempted to give up when she glanced up at the steel slats in the hole. “Hey, let me boost you up,” she said and Cynthia groaned.

“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.” The ceiling had to be close to ten feet up. It took a few tries to get Cynthia up on her shoulders but even then the teacher could touch the bars with her hands outstretched but couldn’t examine them closely. Charlie heard a creak and was hit by a shower of dust. “Two of them are loose,” Cynthia said, scrambling back down. “Do you want us to follow it?”

“Let’s see if Carissa can take us up there,” Charlie replied. It would be bad for Carissa to decide she needed to extract them and find them gone as well.

“I’m sorry,” Cynthia said as soon as she cleared the door, voice shaking like she was trying to hold back sobs. “She won’t budge. There is nothing more I can do here for her.” The guard didn’t look overly suspicious but Charlie didn’t trust that he didn’t already know something was different.

They walked silently back out of the basement, Cynthia sobbing occasionally as they made their way down the hallway. They filled Carissa in once they were up the stairs and she led them to a service corridor until they came to the door Charlie guessed had to be to the upper room. It opened to what had probably been an old office to some domestic department, a heavy metal file cabinet still bearing labels ROOM SERVICE, DRY CLEANING, FLOWERS, LINENS on the drawers.

Two of the bars had clearly been pushed out of the wooden frame they’d been set into but someone had take the time to put them back together. There was a stack of loose, yellowed paper on top of the cabinet and a pencil lying on the floor next to it where the dust showed it had been disturbed recently. Carissa looked completely uninterested in what she found in the papers until she got about midway through the stack and then she went dead white.

“Something wrong,” Charlie asked as the Captain held up a sketch of a pretty woman with hair falling in loose curls to about mid-jaw.

“This is a sketch of my mother.”

“You look a little like her,” Cynthia said. “Is this your father’s office?”

“No, his office is near President Davis’. Any my mother has had her hair mid-way down her back for years but she wrote me a few months ago that her hairdresser had convinced her to cut it. She said she couldn’t wait to see what Dad thought of it.”

“So someone sent him a picture,” Charlie said, realizing her voice was showing her irritation. “Do you think he knows what happened to Julia?”

“You don’t get it,” Carissa said, her tone stressing the fact she clearly thought they were both dense. “This is one of Beth’s drawings.”

“So someone let Beth draw a picture and sent it to your Dad,” Charlie said, even as Carissa snorted.

“My father adores my mother. If he had a picture of her, it would be in his office and he’d have showed it to me when he got it. The other prisoner would have to be Beth.”

“Why would Doyle want her here?” Cynthia asked. “I thought she was unstable?”

“She is. But he’s never figured out how or why and my father would never let him do more experiments. No wonder Davis asked my mother to stay in Cuba. He said it was because he wanted someone he could trust back there but I think Doyle arranged it so he could tell my mother that my father had asked for her to be brought to D.C. and my father thinks she’s in Cuba.”

“But why would she take time to draw a picture?” Charlie asked and Carissa groaned, dropping her face into her hands.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why Beth does most of the things she’s done.”

“Well she took Julia with her, at least,” Cynthia commented. “Carissa, any ideas on how to find them?”

Carissa shook her head, but then sighed. “Maybe. When Beth is feeling stressed she likes to go to high places. She told me once that it felt like she was flying and birds don’t need to worry. Granted, she then tried to stab my in the throat with a spoon, so I don’t know how much I trust that. But maybe the attics?”

“If she has Julia with her then Julia would get her out,” Charlie said. “But how would she do outside?”

“I don’t know,” Carissa confessed, sounding like she was about to start crying. “I’ve barely gotten to see her in nearly a year.”

Cynthia moved to the room’s only window -- the source of the light into the cell. “Quite the feat to get her and Julia up here.” She pointed and Charlie could see a large white spire in the distance. “There, let’s start with the Washington Monument.”

 

They were partway along the Capitol Mall area when Charlie spotted a rail-thin woman in a heavy coat with dull gray-brown hair that kept swinging to cover her face. If she hadn’t seen her just a few hours earlier she would not have recognized Julia Neville but she walked up to her slowly, trying not to spook the younger woman with spiky-short dark hair that was puttering next to her.

She could tell from the indrawn breath the instant Julia realized who she was and the other woman twitched violently, as if suddenly scared and she rounded on Charlie but Julia kept her hand. “It’s okay, Beth,” Julia said, her voice tired but patient. “This is a friend. She can help us. Charlie, please,” Julia’s voice was nearer to tears than anything Charlie had ever heard. “I don’t know who you support here but these bastards murdered Jason and I know that has to mean something to you.”

Beth was staring at Carissa as if she couldn’t quite place her and Charlie could see the water standing in the Captain’s eyes. “Julia,” Charlie said softly. “This is Carissa Bailey. She’s a Patriot Captain but she’s also Beth’s younger sister. And Jason’s alive. He and Tom both are here with us. We came to get you.”

“He did it then,” Julia said. “Tom killed Monroe? But that won’t be enough now. Not after what I said. They’ll kill me and Jason and Tom. You and Miles have to help us.” She was darting glances between Beth and Carissa.

“That’s why we’re here. Captain Bailey too. We convinced her to join us in Willoughby. We just all have to get off the street.” This was probably not the point to mention Monroe was with them, she decided. “Come with us.”

Julia hesitated, then nodded, tightening her grip on Beth’s hand. They started walking slowly out of the Mall area, Charlie trying to compare the street names to the map she’d studied to get to their rooming house but Cynthia pushed past her to take the lead, her pace confident, and Charlie fell into step behind her.

They didn’t speak until they were back on the street and Beth turned to Carissa, her posture almost casual. “Did you know I was here?”

“No. Not till I saw the picture of Mom you left in that room.”

Beth snorted. “I drew it a few days ago, hoping Dad would see it eventually. I didn’t mind that cell -- I felt safe there -- but I was bored so I tied my sheet to my cup and threw it so it went over one of the bars. It’s a real bitch to try to work bars loose from that high up, hanging from a bedsheet. But once I got them loose, I could go up and draw whenever I wanted. Doyle told me you and Dad and Allison knew. But Doyle lies a lot. He told Julia her son was dead.” She glanced at Charlie, her eyes narrowing. “You say he’s not. So one of you is a liar.”

“Guess you’ll just have to see in a minute,” Charlie said. “We’re going to the same place as her husband and son. There are a lot of people there. Will that be a problem for you?”

Beth shrugged, her mouth pursing in almost identical expression to the guard in the cellar. Charlie wondered if it was habit or instinct after what they put the cadets through. “Guess we’ll see.”

“Rachel and Miles?” Julia sounded almost disapproving and Charlie raised an eyebrow.

“You’re not in a position to be picky here.”

“Fair enough. And if you can put up with Tom, I suppose I can deal with Rachel. I’m surprised Miles let Tom kill Sebastian.” She stared at Charlie closely, her own eyebrows going up. She’d clearly made the effort to coat them with the same fire-ash she’d rubbed in her hair but the results had been a little erratic. “So Sebastian is still alive. That’s interesting. Is he here?”

“He wants revenge for Philadelphia. Tom wants you safe. Stranger alliances have been built on that. Granted, it helped when he found out Jeremy was still alive.”

“Jeremy Baker?” Julia sounded shocked and Charlie almost shrugged but she changed it to a nod instead.

“Yeah. He’s here too. And Aaron. Which, by the way, this is his girlfriend, Cynthia.”

“You were at the trial, weren’t you?”Julia said. “I recognize the bleach-blond hair. I remember thinking it couldn’t be natural.” 

“Disguise. Hell of a speech,” Cynthia commented and Julia smiled, the first real one Charlie had seen from her.

“When you’re about to die, you say some pretty crazy things.”

“Nothing to what you said once you get over being dead,” Cynthia muttered.

Julia looked puzzled for a moment but then turned to Carissa. “Your father? Would he have just left Beth in that cell?”

“No,” Carissa said. “Not a chance. Mom has always refused to let them take Beth away from her, even if she was in a cell. I’m actually surprised she let them bring her here.”

“There was a letter from Dad,” Beth said, her voice reed-thin, “that there was a doctor here working on reversing the effects of the programming. It said Max Allenford had started to go crazy like I was. . .that apparently it was all of them. I was just the first. It said Max had gotten better and he wanted to see what the doctor could do for me.”

“Why didn’t she come with you?”

“The letter asked her to stay in Cuba. Said there was a faction trying to get the program restarted and he needed Mom to make sure that didn’t happen.”

Carissa snorted. “Yeah, like that doesn’t sound suspicious. How did Mom not smell the rat there?”

“It was a letter from Dad,” Beth sounded vaguely irritated. “When has Mom ever not trusted a letter from Dad?”

Charlie was starting to pick out buildings she recognized but they still had a few blocks to go and she could tell Julia’s strength was fading fast. “You okay?” she asked softly and Julia nodded.

“I just need a meal and some sleep and I’ll be fine. Victor’s idea of softening up are crude but would have been effective if he hadn’t told me Tom and Jason were dead. People who have nothing left sometimes don’t behave rationally. I’m surprised he hasn’t learned that in all these years. And while we’re on that subject, how is everyone’s favorite lunatic dictator this week?”

“Nearly sane again?” Charlie said, not quite able to keep the edge out of her voice and Julia snorted.

“Sebastian Monroe is whatever Miles Matheson says he is. If Miles says Sebastian is sane and happy, then Sebastian is sane and happy. If Miles says Sebastian is a monster, then Sebastian grows hooves and a tail. What makes you think it won’t happen again?”

“Because Miles isn’t going insane himself this time. And because there’s more of us to deal with both of them. My mother, me, Jeremy. Bass’ son, Connor.”

“What son?” Julia asked, clearly startled.

“Connor’s about twenty-seven. His mom was Miles’ high school girlfriend.”

Julia let out a nearly silent laugh. “I was wondering about the ring on your finger. Does Jason realize you picked a Monroe?”

“I don’t think he’s really accepted it yet. But yes, he knows.” She almost corrected Julia on which Monroe she’d chosen but decided she was too tired to try to explain it. “Tom was happy about it.”

Julia snorted again, “He would be. I have to admit, I did think I was going to end up with you as a daughter-in-law. Poor Jason.”

“I never thought Jason and I would see each other again.”

Julia exhaled heavily. “I’ll give you that. After all, I thought Tom was dead and I went and picked another husband.”

“How the hell did you end up with Doyle anyway?” Carissa asked. “The man’s rampantly paranoid and isn’t known for trusting outsiders.”

Julia straightened, throwing her shoulders back. Even mostly-starved, clearly exhausted, ash in her hair and an ill-fitting coat there was a dignity to her. “Do I look like an outsider?”

Carissa smiled, her eyebrows going up. “Okay, I’m impressed. Allison would kill to be able to do that.”

“No offense, because I understand she’s your sister,” Julia said, her voice betraying her irritation, “but Allison Bailey is a helpless, fawning damsel who doesn’t know how to play the game. She’s had years to work on Victor and he never even noticed her beyond the possible hold she might give him over your father. I arrive in that refugee camp and within a week he’d already asked me to have dinner with him.”

Charlie led them around behind the rooming house and through the kitchen to the back stairs. Connor was in the hallway and Charlie could hear Miles and Tom’s argument even from the stairwell. “Glad you’re back,” Connor said. “We were just starting to get worried about you. Hey, Carissa, good to see you.” He glanced at Julia and Beth. “Who are they?”

“She’s the reason that’s happening,” Charlie said, gesturing between Julia and the door. “Why are you out here?”

“In case Tom makes a break for it.” He glanced closer at Julia but then swung his smile to Beth, who ignored him.

“Well, maybe you are learning something after all,” Julia sighed, marching into the room. Over her shoulder, Charlie could see Jason tied down to a chair and Miles had Tom backed into a corner with a knife at his throat.

“For the last time, we’re giving Charlie another hour.” Miles yelled and Charlie saw the look on Tom’s face when he saw Julia behind Miles. He crumbled, feature and body both and stumbled forward, ignoring Miles’ blade. “Julia,” he whispered, his voice already broken at the same time Jason gasped, “Mom.”

Aaron, standing next to Jason’s chair, slid a knife into the rope and cut it and Jason stood, hanging back a little from where his parents were clinging to each other in the center of the room. Julia reached her hand out to grip one of Jason’s hands, even though her lips never left Tom’s and Charlie was surprised to see Tom pull Jason into their embrace.

Miles exhaled heavily. “Hey, Kid. Good to see you. You had us all freaked when you didn’t come back. Glad to see I was right, that you were making a play for Julia. Even if it did kind of blow our plan. Were you followed?”

“I don’t think so. But I didn’t rescue Julia, Beth here did. She’s Carissa’s sister and we just found them when they were trying to get away.”

Miles shook his head. “Okay. Then we’ve still got a window. Even if it’s a small one. Carissa, think you can get us in to the President’s office?”

“Yeah. But once word gets out she’s gone and I didn’t report it --”

Miles looked tired but he shook his head. “Then you need to go tell him. Get him and Victor Doyle together and tell them both and then we grab them both.”

“Not Doyle.”

Everyone turned to look at Beth, who settled in the same chair Aaron had just let Jason out of. “And why’s that?” Miles asked. “He could be useful.”

“He won’t. And what he’ll do to you if anything goes wrong. . .well, you don’t want to know.” She glanced over at Carissa, her smile sad. “He told everyone there was something wrong with me. That I didn’t take the re-education right. What it did to me. But when he brought me here he told me the truth. Something was wrong with me, yes, and I couldn’t be programmed like normal. But I didn’t have to be this. He made me into this himself.”

“What are you talking about?” Carissa asked. “But that can’t be right? You were completely unstable.”

“Exactly. So when he finally decided to get rid of Dad. . .when I killed my own father. . .would anyone believe it was him behind it.”

“Why would he tell you that?” Rachel asked.

Beth shrugged. “He was boasting that he was good about getting rid of problems. He liked people to appreciate how brilliant it was and it was killing him that his best scheme he couldn’t tell anyone since President Davis still trusts Dad more than anyone. I was safe since no one else knew I was here.”

“Why didn’t Mom write to ask about you?” Carissa asked and Beth sighed.

“She did. He intercepted their letters and would re-write them to say what he wanted them to know. Dad’s were easy since he always uses the typewriter and he paid someone to imitate Mom’s. . .I think. . .I think he wasn’t planning on waiting much longer to have Dad killed.”

“Shit,” Carissa whimpered. “They. . .I. . .” she turned to Tom and Charlie saw the tears shining in her eyes. “I don’t know you but I’ve heard the stories I can get you in if you promise he’ll die.”

“I don’t think,” Tom’s smile was beatific, “I have ever had a better offer in my entire life.”

“I have a better idea,” Miles interrupted and Jeremy sighed.

“Miles, I know that tone. I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is, the beginning of the end. Some of this was written months ago. Others of it was written a few days ago. But here is it. . .the rest of the chapters will be posted tonight.
> 
> "So wet I could shoot snipe off you" was taken from a quote in one of my favorite versions of Robin Hood ("Robin Hood-1991" with Patrick Bergan and Uma Thurman).


	47. Chapter 47

The Patriot uniform top was surprisingly scratchy, Charlie realized and she fought the urge to claw at the sleeves where it rubbed against her forearms. The pants weren’t nearly as bad and she glanced again at Carissa, looking utterly composed in her own uniform she’d changed into. Charlie wondered if the intel officer had simply gotten used to the itch or if that was the reason she so seldom wore it.

Riley also made a credible looking Patriot -- Bass, Miles and Rachel chained to each other trailing behind him. They’d debated including Jeremy in the line of prisoners but they’d not wanted to look like they had too many prisoners and not enough guards so he was playing a guard along with Tom and Jason.

The room Carissa led them into was round; a shape Charlie hadn’t expected until she briefly flashed back to a forgotten school lecture of Aaron’s -- something about an oval office. President Davis looked a little surprised at the procession, one of his eyebrows raising. “Tom Monroe. I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“You promised,” Tom’s voice was harsh. “My wife in exchange for Monroe’s. And here’s Monroe. I brought along Miles Matheson and Rachel Matheson as a bonus. Heard you’ve been looking for them too. They should be worth Julia’s life.”

Davis looked impressed. “I admit, I never thought you’d pull it off. But you’re too late. She’s been sentenced to death.”

“You’re the President of the United States. You can rescind that order. Tell everyone it was carried out and we’ll go away. I don’t care what you do as long as I have my wife.”

“I’ll consider it. Captain Bailey, take Mr. Neville and his son into custody.”

They’d been expecting that and Tom made a token protest that Connor quickly subdued, hitting the older man upside the head with the butt of his rifle. Charlie concealed a wince when she heard the wood-on-flesh-covered-bone crack and she saw Connor’s eyes widen in panic as Tom started to go down but the older Neville caught himself before he got further down than his knees. The dirty look he gave Connor as Bass’ son handcuffed him was undoubtedly genuine, however.

Charlie grabbed Jason’s arm as he started towards his father and she slipped the metal bands over his wrists. They looked like real cuffs; they even had been real until Miles had bored out the locking mechanism so they couldn’t actually be secured.

“You bastard,” Tom spat. “You’ll never get away with this?”

“Really? And who do you think is going to stop me? Sebastian Monroe and Miles Matheson? Well, it’s a little late for that considering you just brought them here to me.” He turned to study Miles and Bass, head tilting a little to the side. “As for you two, did you really think you could get away with leading a rebellion against the President of the United States?”

“President?” Rachel’s voice was soft but her tone was the one that made Charlie cringe whenever it was directed at her. “You are a lying car salesman. You and Randall Flynn. You are an insult to the real America and sooner or later, people will figure out the truth.”

“The truth? American’s don’t want the truth. American’s want to feel safe. And they’ll hand over control to anyone who’ll give them that. And that’s why I can rape Texas and destroy Philadelphia and everyone will just smile and say thanks. I’m an insult to the real America? Lady, I am America.”

“So you admit it,” Bass said, his voice soft. “You dropped the bombs?”

Davis didn’t reply but Rachel spoke again, “You cost me everything and we’re going to make you pay.”

“Really, how? Even now, whatever you were planning is over. You were the only ones who knew what happened and you’re all going to be dead within the hour. The last loose ends before I have President Carver assassinated and manage to pin it on California. Yes, like I pinned Georgia and Philadelphia on you and Foster.”

“What did you say?” Carissa asked and Davis glared at her.

“And I don’t expect any trouble from you, Captain Bailey. While I understand you haven’t gone through the same re-education as the rest of my officers, I know I can trust you because of your father. Because of your family.”

“So you were behind the blackout in the first place?” Carissa asked and Davis sighed.

“If you hadn’t figured that out years ago you’re dumber than I thought you could be. Of course we were behind the blackout. It was a chance to start over. Your father understood that. He didn’t know it was coming but I told him to get your sister and you home from school any way he could without letting anyone know it was an emergency. He listened to me and he was always grateful for it.

“So why wait so long,” Miles asked. “Why fifteen years between when the lights went out and when you tried to turn them back on. Seems like an awfully long time.”

“I had to make sure there had been enough death. . .enough destruction. . .that our goal had been met. Weed out the weak. Build up the strong. And,” Davis sneered at Monroe, his face showing profound irritation, “it took time to build up someone to blame it all on. I had to wait for the perfect monster.”

“And I gave it to you,” Monroe whispered.

Davis nodded, “Yes, you did.” There was almost grudging admiration to his tone as he added, “But I’ll give you this, it took a lot more than what I thought it would for you to get there. We picked you not long after we figured out you were mobilizing the East Coast. We planted the first few rebel leaders. It didn’t take long for our men to get killed but they’d done enough to make everyone hate the Militia -- some of the worst brutalities were done by our men too -- that what came after worked as well as anything we ever could have hoped for. And then you played right into our hand, going crazy on your own. You even managed to make your best friend try to kill you. After that, it was just waiting for the right time and the way into the Tower, which you were kind enough to provide us. I’d say the rest would just be a foot-note in the history books but they’ll never make it into them because we’ll be writing them.”

Bass’ handcuff’s clanked as they hit the ground and he had one hand around Davis’ throat, the other hand casually slapping away the President’s feeble attempts to defend himself.

“Bass,” Miles snapped, and Charlie watched Monroe exhale through clenched teeth. The President was wearing a red tie and Bass yanked it free of Davis’ neck, using it to tie a gag around the back of Davis’ head.

Jeremy produced the cloth bags he’d been hiding inside his jacket and dropped it over the President’s head before doing the same to Miles, Rachel and Monroe as they snapped a pair of real handcuffs they’d brought onto Davis before putting the fake ones back on Bass and getting rid of the ones on Neville and Jason.

The walk out of the White House felt like it took forever to Charlie. Davis struggled and made a lot of incoherent noises around his gag but Rachel, Miles and Bass raised a similar cacophony whenever he started up and no one paid much attention to them as Carissa led them outside and onto a wagon with a rebar cage built into it.

They ditched the cart part way through the city and Bass, Rachel and Miles departed hastily so they looked like just another Patriot patrol escorting a single prisoner. It didn’t take long to make it to the abandoned warehouse Riley had suggested as an alternate to his boarding house. Rachel, Miles and Bass were already there when they walked inside and Bass seemed to take a little more pleasure than was necessary trying Davis to a post. He was firmly General Monroe but Charlie found she didn’t even think he was wrong for channeling his demon in that moment.

Davis squawked something around his gag and Bass loosened it just enough to pull it out. Davis almost smiled, his voice gone wheedling in what Charlie guessed was desperation. “President Monroe, I’ve got to admit, I am impressed.” He had to be desperate to be appealing to Bass as a fellow President. “You know how to play the game. But speaking as one leader to another, this is ridiculous. You know that. You’ve already lost.

“Mr. President,” Bass sounded sincerely genuine, “you know, I’ve got to say I admire you too. This “God Bless America” routine that. . .genius. I am a fan. And you’re right, we probably have already lost.” He paused for a very long time, leaning forward a little and giving a warm smile that should have made him look friendly but somehow managed to do the opposite. “But if that’s true, then I still get to cut your throat and watch you bleed to death. So speaking as one leader to another,” Bass raised one hand and waved it towards David, as if he could barely keep it off the President’s throat again. “That’s one hell of a consolation prize.” He smiled again but just reached down to re-gag Davis before he turned away. Charlie wondered if he felt as shaken as she was.

 

It took nearly an hour for Mr. Bailey to join them at the warehouse and he took a seat across from his boss, one arm around each of his daughters as Carissa sat on his left and Beth on his right. Carissa’s father was average height with dark hair going gray and he looked remarkably calm as he looked around the room, seeming to take in everything.

Davis looked startled to see him, muttering something around the gag and Mr. Bailey ignored him to look over at Carissa. “I can’t say that you’re wrong. . .but I don’t know what to do here.”

“Did he,” Carissa asked Cynthia and Aaron, “get a chance to talk to anyone before you brought him here?”

“No,” Aaron answered. “We took him straight from his office to that closet you mentioned and then from there to here. We had to take the long way to not be grabbed by patrols. They’re already everywhere.”

“It’s all true, Dad,” Beth said softly and Mr. Bailey hugged her tighter.

“Baby, I knew about all of it. . .the blackout and the bombs. Not beforehand, maybe. But after.”

“How could you know and not do anything about it?” Carissa snapped. “After what they did?”

“Carissa, please. Without him, you’d have been lost at the school. You and Beth both. So whatever he did that was wrong, I owe him for that.”

“Dad,” Carissa sighed. “Whatever you may have owed him you’ve paid a thousand times over in loyalty over the years. Where does it end? When he kills us?” Davis made a vehement denial, even if no one could actually understand his words and Carissa turned to glare at him. “Fine, I’ll give you that. You lean on my father. So what about when Victor Doyle has you killed? And Doyle is Davis’ monster.

“What are you talking about?” Mr. Bailey asked and Beth pushed herself away from him to pace on between her father and Davis, seeming to ignore everyone else in the room.

“Victor Doyle used the fact I couldn’t be programmed like normal people to make me crazy. He told me so himself. I was meant to be his insurance policy. In case he thought you had too much influence with the President.”

“That sounds --”

“Crazy?” Beth supplied the word, her voice a little mocking but Charlie was pretty sure the woman was coming close to losing whatever control she had. Julia must have heard it too because she stood from her seat on an old couch with Tom to walk over and touch Beth on the shoulder. The younger woman swung around as if startled but she locked eyes with Julia and inhaled and exhaled slowly several times before she nodded and Julia padded back to her seat. It was a remarkable display, partially because it was so unexpected, but Charlie fought back the tears. Nora had once been able to do that for her.

“But, Beth,” Mr. Bailey protested, “your condition was one of the arguments against re-education that Victor was pushing so strongly. Why would he undercut his own program?”

“I don’t know,” Beth growled and Charlie could sense her frustration but she seemed more in control.

The incoherent murmur grew a little more insistent and Miles walked over to strip off the President’s gag. “What?”

“I. . .I might know a bit about that one.” President Davis admitted. “The Allenford’s weren’t happy with what happened to Max. And Bill Harlow was equally appalled about his daughter. They were a lot more discreet about it -- well, they were at first; Justine Allenford didn’t stay that way -- but they were pretty emphatic. Jeff, I couldn’t afford to alienate the Allenford’s and the Harlow’s as well as you, so I told Victor to tone things down. . .that he’d get his chance later on.”

Mr. Bailey rubbed his hand over his face, eyes flicking between Davis and Miles. “But. . .what. . .why are you telling us this.”

Davis’ smile was sickly as he glanced back at Miles. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve lost. Even if Doyle shows up in five minutes and kills everyone in this room, General Monroe and General Matheson have already assured me that they left proof in Texas about who really was behind the attempt to eradicate Willoughby and too many people know who really dropped the bombs on Atlanta and Philly. Texas is willing to go to war with us at the slightest provocation, the reprogramming can clearly be broken,” Davis directed an angry glower at Jason Neville, “And now I find out Doyle was plotting to have you killed. Maybe even me.”

“So,” Bailey’s voice was hollow with what Charlie was pretty sure was disbelief, “you’re saying you’re giving it all up because Doyle’s a problem? We’ve dealt with problems before, Jack.”

“I’m not giving up.” Davis glanced back at Miles. “General Matheson assures me that his plan involves me remaining the President of the United States.”

“For now,” Miles corrected. “You’ll be gone as soon as we hold an election.”

Davis shrugged and sighed. “Well, nothing lasts forever. But think of it, Jeff. We’d have to get rid of Doyle and maybe Allenford. We could blame everything on them and Randall Flynn and just say we took advantage of the situation. They’ve promised that after the elections they’ll let me retire back to Cuba. We both liked it there, after all. Sure, being ‘Governor Davis’ will be a step down from being President Davis but we’ll be alive.”

“Why?” Bailey whispered and Charlie almost shivered at Bass smile as he stepped forward. Davis glanced at him and even seemed to shrink a little in his chair.

“You,” her husband whispered, “decided that you’d use this opportunity to cull the weak. Well, you’re just finding out that maybe you did too good of a job. You’ve been hiding in Cuba all this time, hearing stories about what was going over here and you didn’t realize you are the weak ones.”

“Man’s got a point,” Miles said. “Because he,” Miles jerked his head at the President, “didn’t even wait twenty minutes to decide to roll over and play our way as soon as he heard we’d be willing to let him live, even let him keep a little power. Sure, you have troops and numbers. Broken Soldiers. And trust me, leading an army of broken Soldiers’ never ends well. I’ve done it a few times.”

Mr. Bailey’s face reflected his disbelief and he kept glancing between Davis and his daughters and Charlie stepped forward to put herself in his line of sight. “I know right now you’re trying to figure out if it means something and how you could have worked for so long, just to see someone throw it away in front of you. And you’re probably trying to figure out how you can make it stop and go back to how it was an hour ago when you thought you knew your life.”

The look Bailey gave her said that was exactly what he was thinking. “Who are you?”

“Charlie Matheson. I’m Miles’ niece.”

“Oh, I heard about you,” Bailey muttered. “You fought Monroe once. Is that what you mean? Because you two are now on the same side?”

“We’re more than on the same side,” she admitted, deciding shock value might help convince him when ordinary speech would not. “I married Monroe.”

Behind Bailey, Julia came up off the couch, her mouth hanging open in shock and Charlie realized -- in the rush to bring all the pieces together -- she’d never gotten the chance to clarify to Mrs. Neville that she’d married Bass, not his son. Bailey also looked suitably surprised and he sighed. “I suppose that would change your perspective.”

“Because the people you thought were your enemy. . .sometimes aren’t.” She thought back to the General Monroe that had tried to use her to motivate Rachel to build an amplifier, tried to nuke Atlanta, tried to burn a courthouse to the ground with his former neighbors in it or how he’d tortured Nora. “Or maybe they won’t always be your enemy. And other people may not always be your friends.” She’d trusted Jim Hudson and she’d been hurt by his betrayal enough that she’d carried part of that with her, even though she realized that perhaps he hadn’t been lying about everything. It was possible he’d truly cared about Miles but had been caught up trying to save his wife. “Even if they once were.”

“So where do we go from here?” Bailey asked, his voice suddenly weary and Charlie saw him reach out to grip Beth’s hand.

“Where we go?” Neville sounded triumphant and she was glad she was going to miss what was coming next. “We’re going back to the White House to do a little ‘spring cleaning’ before we take the President back. Got to get it ready for him.”

She, Julia, Cynthia, Aaron and Beth were going to be on Davis detail. She’d protested at first when Miles had assigned her to remain but he’d assured her he needed someone who knew how to fight and who would be able to slit Davis’ throat at the end if necessary. 

“And what part do I play in this ‘spring cleaning?’” Bailey asked, his voice cautious and Miles sighed.

“That will be up to your daughter. You’re going to be with her for it.”

Bailey glanced at Carissa. “Sweetheart, are you sure about this?” When she nodded his shoulders hunched. “What happened, in Texas, to get you on their side?”

Carissa’s smile was about as sad as Charlie had ever seen it. “I saw how amazing this country could be. The people. And our plans to come in and save it? How do you save anything,” Her hand waved between Miles and Charlie and Bass, “when you’re trying to destroy people’s families?”

 

She hated waiting, Charlie decided, in the next few hours, feeling her stomach constantly knotting up, unsure if most of her family was alive or dead. Julia slept, clearly too worn to even stand straight anymore. Charlie watched her sleep on the nest of blankets not far from where Davis was tied and the President’s lips twitched as he saw where she was looking.

“She’s tough,” Davis sighed. “I’ll give her that. I thought we’d broken her weeks ago.”

“You don’t break Nevilles,” Aaron muttered. “You just get them at varying shades of crazy. And the more desperate they are, the crazier they get.”

Davis nodded in agreement and then focused on Charlie again. “So, Mrs. Monroe--”

“Mrs. Matheson,” she corrected and he raised an eyebrow. “He asked if I’d keep my name.”

“Okay. Well, that’s kind of a surprise. The Monroe I studied. . . .” he trailed off as if unsure and she smiled.

“He’s not the Monroe you studied. Actually, I doubt your idea of Monroe was anywhere near the truth. Mine wasn’t.” She decided not to explain there probably were facets that were closer to the truth than she wanted them to be. Ambition, paranoia, ruthlessness and a lust for power were very much a part of the whole man, but they were just a few aspects of a very complicated person.

“Fair enough. But this plan of theirs, to keep me President? It sounds a little too good to be true for me and it kind of makes me wonder if I should expect a bullet between the eyes as soon as they get back.”

“They came up with this plan in Willoughby,” Charlie admitted. “At least a few months ago. So I’d say, if you continue to cooperate, you have a lot more to worry about from your own people than you do from us.” She jerked her head at Julia. “In fact, as much as we hate you, considering who we’ve made peace with, you might even end up being welcome for dinner some time. Though I hope not,” she added.

“It wasn’t meant to be this way,” Davis sighed. “We were supposed to have a few years without power but then it was supposed to get turned on and we were supposed to rescue everyone. Even after Victor and Randall came up with the plan to destroy Atlanta and Philadelphia, we were supposed to have power to help with the clean-up. We were going to take over Texas and maybe even start a Texas-California war if we could arrange it. But these war clans? They seemed like good allies at first but they’re totally out of control. And as for what’s coming out of Canada? Talk about monsters. I lost two Battalions in three weeks up there and we’re not managing to hold them completely out. They left Monroe alone -- apparently they were afraid of him -- but they’re not afraid of me.”

He was whining, Charlie realized in shock and she raised a single eyebrow. “And you expect sympathy from us?”

“Maybe not.” He glanced hopefully at Aaron then sighed. “No. But I’ll be honest. I never thought it was going to be this hard.”

She wondered if it was an act, but he looked at least a decade older than he had at the trial that afternoon. They couldn’t trust him, but he clearly meant to go along with their plans, at least for now.

“Charlie,” Aaron said, coming over to touch her on the shoulder and she leaned into his side for a hug, savoring the brief contact. Aaron had been handed a vast power that none of them understood but instead of it corrupting him, he’d tried even harder to do the right thing. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Cynthia and I can watch him for a while.”

She was tired, she realized, but she shook her head. “I don’t think I can sleep until I know they’re safe?”

“You should try anyway. If it comes to a fight, they’ll need you and you’re no good if your exhausted.” He was right, she realized, and she sat in an old office chair, its fabric dusty and shredded in spots but it had a good head-rest -- far more comfortable than her seat on the train -- and closed her eyes.

 

She woke to a hand cupping her cheek and she flung herself out of the chair -- out of the dream about walking through corridors of the White House and cutting down tan-clad Soldiers; not even sure if it was some sort of nightmare or a fantasy. Her hand got a grip on the knife at her belt and she had it half out before she recognized Bass’ quiet chuckle.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped, sheathing the knife and glancing desperately around the room. She saw Miles and Jason but no one else and she opened her mouth but couldn’t speak.

“It’s okay, they’re all fine,” Bass assured her. “We came to pick up the President. We’re taking him back to the White House.”

“What happened?” she asked and he shrugged.

“Doyle’s dead. Tom killed him. And Allenford. We tried to get him to turn but he blamed Tom for making him shoot his wife. He was going after Tom so Miles and I had to. . .had to stop him. Mr. Bailey got a bunch of people including the press together and gave them the details and we’re taking the President back for the confirmation. 

“So it’s really over?”

Bass snorted. “You know as well as I do, none of it’s over. But we have a chance now, yeah. Be a while before we can go start that farm though.”

She leaned against him and rested her cheek against his chest. “I figured that. But we can start thinking about it.” She felt his hand in her hair and she felt some of the tension ease out of his posture.

“Hey, you two,” Miles snapped. “Could use some help here.”

“You’re such a dick,” Bass sighed but he let go of Charlie and stepped away.

 

Carissa was waiting outside with Connor and a group of men Charlie was pretty sure she’d seen earlier in the day at the White House but none of them were wearing Patriot uniforms and all them looked shaken, as if they didn’t know what to believe anymore. They had an enclosed cart behind them and they ushered Davis into it. His hands were still bound but the tie hung slack around his neck – no longer a gag. His steps were heavy as he shuffled up to the steps of the cart.

Charlie could see people already in it and she glanced in question at Miles as Tom Neville hopped off the seat of the cart and Carissa took the reins.

“What’s going on?” she asked Miles, nodding at the cart and he grimaced. “Reporters. Those four won the draw to get the first interview with the President. Jeremy is in there too, so he’ll be on good behavior. Your mom is back at the White House with Riley and Mr. Bailey, spilling years worth of closely held government secrets. I hate politics.

Cynthia and Aaron came out, supporting Julia between them and Carissa gestured them over. “Go ahead and put her up here with me.” It took both of them, plus Tom to help boost Julia onto the high seat but she looked less shaky once she was up there, as if she was aware she was on display and had an image to maintain. “Beth?” Carissa asked but the other woman shook her head.

“I’d rather walk. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to be out.”

Carissa looked uncertain but Cynthia looped her arm through Beth’s. “Go ahead. Aaron and I will make sure she gets back okay.”

The horses started out at a walk and Charlie fell into the procession behind it. One of the former Patriots smiled at her and she smiled back, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Hi, I’m Charlie.”

“Neil.” He couldn’t have been older than eighteen and he looked scared but he managed to say, “Is is true? About the Patriots bombing Atlanta and Philadelphia?”

“Yeah.” He looked ready to cry and she wondered who he’d lost.

“I joined them, when they came back, because of that. But it. . .it wasn’t what I expected. I thought it was going to be noble.”

She’d felt that way once, thinking that fighting Monroe would be part of a higher calling, before the realities of war had burned that away. And, she amended silently to her, the fact that part of her had actually liked it, which she knew wasn’t right either.

“General Monroe?” The voice was tentative and terrified and Charlie turned to see a woman wearing a black dress that looked like it had been stitched from an old bed sheet coming out of one of the shops. She started to turn and draw a weapon but the woman pushed past her, ignoring her completely and suddenly she was at Bass’s feet, clutching at his legs. “General Monroe!” She was sobbing into his pants and Bass waved Charlie back, reaching down to pull the woman back to her feet. She’d have been in his arms, Charlie realized, if he hadn’t held her away. “General Monroe, it really is you.” Her sobs had faded but tears still ran from her eyes.

“It’s Linda, isn’t it?” Charlie thought the woman practically started glowing.

“Yes, Sir. Linda Mason. My husband had a forge in Philadelphia. He did a lot of the farrier work for the Militia”

“I remember Joshua. I bought a set of fire irons from him, as a gift for a friend. He has a lot of talent.”

That brought on a fresh wave of tears. “He was in Philadelphia, Sir. When it happened.”

“You and the kids weren’t?”

“We’d gone to Youngstown, to visit my parents. He’d stayed to keep the forge open.”

Monroe took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry. Josh was a good man.”

The cart was starting to get farther away from them and Charlie shifted her weight from foot to foot but Bass seemed oblivious.

“But, Sir, please. You’ve come back. You’ll make it okay, now that you’re back?” Bass’ forehead furrowed and the woman gestured around. “I know things were difficult, but we had food when you were in charge. And the Militia. We were all scared of them but so was everyone else. Now we have bandits, rape gangs, slavers.” Monroe’s face went blank. “Without the Militia keeping people in line, the monsters have taken over.”

“Linda,” Charlie could hear the strain in Bass’ voice. “I was one of the monsters myself.”

“No,” the woman cried, clutching at his hand. “Maybe we all thought so at the time. But no. General Monroe, we didn’t know what monsters really were until you’d gone. You’ve got to come back. Please.” It was a whimper, but suddenly the woman’s face lit, her eyes wide. “General Matheson?” she whispered. She flung herself into Bass’ arms, sobbing into his chest, one hand stretching behind him and Charlie turned to see Miles coming down the street towards them.

Miles’ head cocked at sight of her, Bass and Linda and other people on the street were starting to pay attention and Charlie felt her stomach knot as the whispers started, heads leaned close together and every person in a rapidly forming crowd were starting at Miles and Bass. She heard the growing cries as the crowd started to surge forward. Miles held up one hand and it abruptly halted, a ring around them of about three feet that no one looked ready to cross.

An old man shuffled to the front, one of his arms a twisted ruin of what looked like badly set bone. “General Monroe. General Matheson.” His voice was gravelly but his face was shining. “Are you come home? Will we have the Militia again, to keep order?” His voice broke. “Sirs, we need the Militia. We need the President.”

“No Militia,” Miles said. “Not this time. At least not the same one. General Monroe and I plan to make sure the President is able to do the job he was elected to do.”

“Not that puppet-king,” the old man scoffed. “President Monroe.”

The cart had stopped finally, and Tom was walking back towards them, sliding into the ring of the crowd.

Miles shook his head. “We’re not going to be in charge anymore. You’ll get to vote on the next President.”

Practically every head in the crowd swiveled to Monroe but he shook his head. “Not me. I. . .made a lot of mistakes.”

“Not nearly as many as these ‘Patriots’ have,” someone called, the word Patriot and mocking jeer in his tone. “Sir, you kept order. We didn’t appreciate it until we lost it, true enough. But now. . .”

Bass’ laugh was rough. “Well this time I’m going to be just an advisor to whoever the real President. . .and maybe whoever we elect to replace him.” No one looked particularly convinced and Bass cleared his throat. “I’m encouraging Major Tom Neville to run.” He gestured with his arm, and Tom came forward. Charlie was surprised how humble the man looked. “Now, most of you remember Major Neville. Some of you may even wonder how I can support him after he defected to Georgia. Truth is I forced him to defect myself. But I know better than to question him now. Him and General Matheson both. I have faith that Major Neville will be a better person to unite the nation than I could ever be.”

“General Monroe is too humble,” Tom spoke and Charlie could hear the strain in his voice, even if he was doing well keeping it off his face. “He and General Matheson do me a great honor both. I would consider running for President – freely elected if the people so choose it – to restore the rights of the Constitution.”

“I was wrong,” Bass said, “to set up a government based on any other model. And that’s where I failed. But I learned from my mistakes and Tom has too. Freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, right to bear arms, the right to vote.”

“All things I plan to restore,” Tom’s voice was starting to warm. “As well as the right to watch our families live in peace. And if it takes the Militia to enforce it, then we’ll form a Militia.” He voice dropped low. “But we won’t call it the Monroe Militia, or the Matheson Militia or even the Neville Militia. It will be the United States Militia. No conscriptions. No brands. Service, freely offered. Because anything less isn’t what this country is about. And we’re going to have our country again. My friends,” he gestured at Bass and Miles, ”did what they had to do, in the beginning. And I respect them for making the hard choices. I can’t deny that I was right there in it with them. But the time has come to take back what is ours.” He had the only voice Charlie had ever heard that could cut as deep as Rachel’s.

She felt someone behind her take her hand and she recognized the shape of Jason’s fingers in hers. He squeezed them as he stepped next to her and she looked up to meet his eyes. It wasn’t just her imagination, she realized. He had grown taller in the time they’d been apart. “I did love you,” he whispered and she didn’t miss the use of the past tense.

“I loved you too.” But not enough. She squeezed back and was surprised at his gentle smile. It wasn’t just on her part either, she realized. Faced with the choice, he’d picked Tom, just as she’d picked Miles.

“I’m glad you’re happy. “

On impulse she stood on her toes to press a kiss onto his cheek. It was a goodbye, though she knew they’d be stuck together for the foreseeable future. The hotel for Miles and the farm for her and Bass would have to wait. She snuck a look to where Connor had climbed up on the seat of the cart on Julia’s other side, talking softly to her and she wondered what he’d say when she told him she was going to stop drinking Rachel’s tea. For that matter, she wondered what Rachel would say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is a combination of material written recently and written months ago. I might have rushed a few transitions it felt like it was ready to go. . .though I won't rule out eventually adding in some more detail later. I'm sure I have some mistakes but I've re-read this so many times in the last few days, I think it's time to publish (and catch things when it's been a few months. . .not sure any of you want to wait a few months).


	48. Chapter 48

Dinner that night had every reason to be a wild celebration but they were all quiet, almost moody. The media interviews had gone on for hours and Charlie was reminded of recounting their story to Carissa at Gene’s but this time it had been to what remained of a press corps that had been insatiable for the details of everything that had happened. Miles was still worried, Charlie could tell. She’d have thought his mood was infecting Bass but he’d been silent ever since his run-in with the farrier’s wife in the street.

Maybe it was because there was no noise in the dining room that Charlie started to hear the noise outside, as if a thousand voices were murmuring quietly and suddenly Miles was shoving his chair away from the table, sword drawn. Bass was at his shoulder as they both ran towards the windows and jerked the curtains back.

The lawn in front of the White House was totally packed, Charlie realized, with men and women both ranging in ages from younger than herself to much older than her grandfather. She heard Miles swear and then the man with the twisted arm shoved his way to the front of the crowd and smiled.

“Mayor Neville, Sir.” Tom looked taken aback, his eyebrows going up to his hairline and even Julia looked stunned but Neville opened the window. The older man grinned at him. “We decided we didn’t want to wait to change some leadership around here and as we don’t have time to make you President yet, we decided we could at least get the people together to vote you in as Mayor.”

“Is that legal,” Connor asked and the old man’s eyes glinted.

“Son,” his voice suddenly sounded older, more educated, “We say it’s legal. And as the last lawfully elected Mayor of D.C., I guarantee you’ll hear no objections from me.” He waved his good arm. “Besides, we have a gift for the Mayor. The start of the new American Militia.”

There must have been over a thousand people packing the lawn, Charlie estimated, and Tom looked totally at loss for words. Another man stepped forward, much younger, but he had the same features of the older man. “Gentleman, my father is right. We’re ready to fight to keep what was ours once. What you’re telling us can be ours again.”

Tom stepped forward and took the older man’s good hand through the window. “Sir. . .I. . .” he turned back to Miles. “On behalf of General Matheson and General Monroe, I gratefully accept.”

Bass’ voice was harsh. “Maybe you didn’t hear the man, Tom. This is a gift for you. You’re the mayor.”

Tom’s smile went sharp and it there had just been the two of them, Charlie was pretty sure he’d have rolled his eyes. “Of course it is, Sebastian. But it’s a Militia. And Militias need Generals. I’m just the Mayor. Which means, of course, that the General’s report to me.”

Charlie got a firm grip on Bass’ arm just before he bolted and she felt Miles beside her, blocking him as well. “Do none of you remember how much we fucked this up before?” Bass practically squeaked through clenched teeth.

“And if you fuck it up again,” Julia purred, “this time it will be me who puts a bullet in your skull.” She was smiling, the words clipped. “But for now, if we’re really going to get rid of these guys, we need a Militia. And you do know how to lead one of those.” Her gaze softened as she got a look at his face. “We’ll let you retire as soon as Tom gets elected.”

Neville took a deep breath. “I’m going to need a running mate.” He sounded to Charlie like he was saying he needed dysentery but she understood his point. “Miles, it had better be you.”

“What about Jeremy,” Rachel said and both Miles and Bass exhaled in relief and Neville looked thoughtful.

“That’s actually not a bad idea. “ Julia murmured.

“The hell it isn’t,” Jeremy responded, but Charlie saw the smile on his face. “Well, maybe I’ll think about it. I guess Neville/Baker wouldn’t be too bad.”

Tom stepped through the open window to go talk to the crowd and Miles dragged Bass after him, though she was pretty sure her husband wasn’t exactly willing. Julia abandoned her low discussion with Jeremy to walk over to Charlie, studying her intently. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were first talking that you were married to Sebastian?”

“Would you have believed me?” Charlie asked and Julia’s lips curved into a smile.

“Yes. But I’m not sure I would have understood it. I’m still not sure I understand it now.” She sighed. “We’ll have to be careful with him, you know?”

Charlie couldn’t help but smile at her. “Do you know how many times I’ve had this conversation since I started sleeping with him? It’s practically one of his own favorite subjects on days he hates himself and sometimes even on ones when he doesn’t.”

Julia looked a little more cheerful. “Well, as long as you understand what’s at stake.” She glanced around the room, as if trying to be sure who was listening but no one was really close enough to hear their exchange. “Just be sure to let me know, if you ever need anything. Anything at all. Strong men can be. . .exhausting sometimes.” Her introspective look was clearly one of experience but then her smile sharpened. “You just have to make sure you get one that wants you more than anything. Victor was more interested in his vision of the country and -- to him -- I was nothing more than a pretty plaything. Tom, however, was different. Tom was as ambitious as Victor, but I wasn’t just an afterthought.”

“No one could ever mistake you for an afterthought in his world,” Charlie agreed. “In fact, rescuing you was the only thing we could offer him.” The memory of Dehli still stung but she looked out the window to where Tom had Miles, Bass and Jeremy lined up with him, shaking peoples hands and she snorted. As much as she had never wanted Tom as part of the family, she realized she was stuck with him now, and Dehli had been the start of all that.

She tried to cover her mouth to stifle a yawn but failed and Julia smiled at her. “When was the last time you really slept?”

She’d catnapped the night before, after Aggie had finished with her hair and the night before had been on the train. She tried not to exclaim in surprise to realize it hadn’t even been four days since she’d sold Blaze. “I’ll be fine. Are you all right?” she asked suddenly, seeing how rigid Julia’s posture was and the minute trembling of her hands.

“I am now,” Julia said, looking first towards the window and then back to where Jason and Connor were standing by the sideboard, both of them looking at the window with what looked like a mixture of awe and horror. She almost smiled as Connor poured them both drinks from the crystal decanter and Connor carried one over to Davis. The President’s feet and hands were still shackled to his chair but there was a longer length of chain between them and he had enough slack to eat and drink, even if the knife had been omitted from his place setting.

The hall door opened and Carissa came in, glancing at the window and then shaking her head as if she had decided not to ask. She walked over, snorted, and commented, “You look dead on your feet?”

“Me or Charlie?” Julia asked and Carissa grinned at her.

“You. Though Charlie looks like she’s been up a few rotations of the sun as well.”

“Still too much to do,” Charlie told her, surprised that she didn’t actually feel more tired. “And anyway, I’m not entirely sure that we’re safe here yet.”

Carissa shrugged. “It’s not as bad as all that. Sure, we had a lot of the walking-zombie people around but they’re mostly in cells till we can get their programming straightened out. Fortunately the White House has plenty of cells. Most people here are political sycophants, not hard core fighters and they were ready to piss themselves when Matheson and Monroe walked in. It barely counted as a fight. I think you have more to worry about from Allison than you do the average Patriot-in-the-White House.”

“Where is your sister?” Julia asked, and Charlie felt guilty she’d totally forgotten about Carissa’s oldest sister.

“Locked up in one of the guest suites with Beth. She’s pretty shaken up about Victor Doyle’s death -- she’d had a crush on him for a long time -- but after vehemently denying what Beth told her for hours, she finally just broke down and threw one major brat fit. After that she seemed to be doing better, crying that she couldn’t believe he’d do that to our family and we just decided it was safer to make sure she wasn’t wandering around loose right away. Dad had already sent a message to Cuba, updating them with what’s happened and asking Mom to come to D.C. It’ll probably take about a month for her to get here but Dad can’t leave right now and he doesn’t want to send Beth and Allison back to Cuba until he knows things aren’t going to fall apart there.”

“And you wonder why I think it’s not a good time to go catch a nap,” Charlie commented but Carissa smiled at her.

“Actually, you’d be just fine. What, you didn’t think I spent all my time here just waiting for you to show up, did you? For all I knew, you were all dead and buried somewhere in Texas and I was in this all alone. So I made sure I was able to find the people who weren’t sure what they were doing here was right. Granted, none of them were exactly willing to commit without having backup. But you guys showing up here did that very nicely. No one is going to kill your precious family if you go get a real night’s sleep. In fact, Dad already had the housekeeper set up rooms for everyone.”

“You’re not,” Julia said, her voice faint, “putting Tom and I in the rooms I had with Victor, are they?”

“No,” Carissa assured her. “We still need to go through his rooms and pull out whatever documents he had in them. There are plenty of other rooms.”

“Good,” Julia said, but her exhaustion was showing in her voice and Jason was there, taking her arm and leading her away as Carissa walked with them, clearly giving him some sort of direction.

Charlie hopped out the open window, walking over to where a pretty girl with auburn hair had joined the man who’d declared Tom the mayor of D.C.

“Hey, Charlie,” Miles said. “This is John Greene and his son and daughter,” she missed their names in the background chatter but she smiled and shook hands before Bass had a death-grip on her arm.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his smile and voice as charming as Charlie had ever heard them. “But my wife needs me.” He practically dragged Charlie back through the window and she could feel him shaking as he gripped her hand.

“You all right?” she whispered and he nodded, swallowing hard.

“I will be. But it was a bit much. Thanks for getting me out of there. I couldn’t just bolt. It would have been rude.”

“That was a lot of people,” she admitted and his smile went from being forced to being genuine.

“Yeah. I would have loved it once. I’m kind of glad it freaks me out now. . .makes me realize I’m a better person.”

Carissa came back into the room and looked surprised to see them but she gestured a maid forward. “General Monroe, Mrs. Matheson, can I have Ellie show you to your room now?” 

Bass looked at the window, as if worried he needed to go back outside but Charlie nodded. “Yes, please.” Bass started to protest but she walked back over to the window and leaned out. “Miles, do you need Bass any more tonight? I’m exhausted and if I take him with me now, he won’t disturb me when he comes in later.”

Miles looked startled, starting to say something but he smiled at her when their eyes met and he shook his head. “No, you’re good.”

“What was that?” Bass whispered as they left the dining room, following the maid down a maze of corridors that all looked alike to Charlie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she admitted. “In fact, I’ve probably had more sleep than most of you have these last few days. But since you were clearly afraid to say you needed out of there, I figured making people think you were doing it for me wouldn’t be too bad.”

He looked stunned but not displeased, following the maid up a flight of stairs. “You just had me worried there. A few months ago you’d have cut off your own arm rather than admit you needed rest.”

“I probably still would. But in this case, you’re the one who needed it, not me.” He shook his head and bent to kiss the top of her head but he pulled away as the maid stopped in front of a set of doors.

“General Monroe, Mrs. Matheson, your rooms. There is a bathroom adjoining . . .but the plumbing doesn’t work that well,” she admitted. “So if you have to. . .you know. . .there’s a chamber pot. General and Mrs. Matheson are across the hall from you and the rest of your family and friends will be in rooms in this hall.”

“Thank you so much, Ellie,” Bass said and the woman nodded.

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No,” Charlie said. “I think we’re fine.”

The room was simply furnished but the bed was large and the linens were fresh and Charlie grinned at Bass in the candlelight. It had been days -- weeks, she realized -- since they’d had real privacy and he ginned back at her, his arms suddenly tight around her.

“How tired did you say you were?” he whispered into her ear and she arched her back against his hands.

“I’m not at all. Which means I’ll sleep terribly if no one does anything to make me tired.” She gasped as he drew her ear into his mouth and nibbled at it, one of his hands already kneading at her back.

“That,” he purred, “I’m sure I’ll be able to do something about.”

 

There was a knock on their door and Charlie rolled over, blinking and yawning while the insistent rapping repeated. The room was still dark and she shuffled over to the door with a pistol, wrapped in a blanket, as Bass fumbled with his pants.

“Who is it?” she called, realizing it was probably a moot point. Anyone with hostile intent probably would have broken down the door rather than knocking.

“It’s me,” Connor called and she unlocked the door. Connor was carrying a lamp and he came in, setting it on a table and dropping into the only chair in their room. “We just got a courier from Texas. Somebody tried to assassinate Carver last week. Texas has officially declared war on the Patriots and put a bounty on Davis’ head. A pound of diamonds”

Bass swore, pulling on a shirt and then buckling on his sword belt. “Son of a bitch. Couldn’t Carver have done this two months ago? Why the hell does he have to go making problems just when we have everything under control?”

“For that price,” Charlie commented, “we’d better keep him under pretty tight guard. So much for having him admit what he’s done.” They’d had the press to interview him and all sorts of local politicians but they’d been hoping to parade him around to the general public as well.

“That’s what Miles said.” Connor sighed. “He’s trying to get a message to send back, asking for Texas to cease hostilities against the ‘American’ government until we can provide them the proof that Davis will only be President until we hold an election.”

“And let me guess, someone needs to take that message back to Texas.” She was surprised how hopeful Bass sounded.

“Wrong,” Miles said from the doorway. He looked tired but he shot an exasperated glance at her that she assumed had something to do with the fact she was still wearing just a blanket.

“What, this is supposed to be my bedroom, not an open house,” she commented but she went to dig her pack out of the closet and go into the adjoining bathroom though she left the door cracked so she could hear them.

“Really,” Bass said. “Miles, I’m probably the best person –”

“Bass, you’d be the worst person to send. Well, other than me,” Miles replied. “The number of times we tried to have Carver assassinated.”

“I wasn’t the one with the hard-on to knock off Blanchard if you remember,” Bass shot back and Charlie finished dressing as hastily as she could, leaving off socks. She came back out of the bathroom, shaking her hair out of the neckline of her shirt. Miles was leaning against the wall by the door and she wondered if he’d gotten any sleep at all. Some, she decided, realizing he was wearing a different shirt than when she’d seen him at dinner; but probably not much if the darkness around his eyes was any indication.

“Okay, so I’d be a bad choice too. But neither of us are going because we’re both needed here.” Miles had nailed it, she realized. Bass was hoping to go back to Texas and get out of being General of the new Militia. “Someone with ties to Texas would be best.”

She couldn’t figure out for a moment why Bass went death-white but he stumbled the distance between where he was pacing. “Miles, no. You can’t send her.” Her first reaction was annoyance that he doubted her ability but he clutched at her hand. “I can’t do this without her.”

“No,” Miles said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I wasn’t suggesting Charlie. In fact, Colonel Matheson is going to be plenty busy with her own duties.”

“Colonel Matheson?” Charlie asked. “Really, Miles?”

“Hey,” her Uncle shot her a dirty look. “We need to establish some legitimacy around here and I figured you’d like that a bit more than being the Secretary of Defense. Davis will be announcing the appointments tomorrow.”

“Who’s it going to be?” Charlie asked and Miles grimaced. 

“Well, Riley actually.” Bass looked like he’d bitten into something sour. “You were the one who promoted him in the first place and from what I heard he was one of the youngest Captains in the Republic.”

“Still.” Bass groaned. “Whatever. I don’t care anymore. Except I would have thought you’d have wanted Rachel for something like that.”

“She’s going to be Secretary of State,” Miles admitted. “She suggested Tom but he’s sticking with Mayor of D.C. for now.”

“We’re getting sidetracked,” Charlie pointed out. “Who’s going to Texas?”

“Actually,” Connor said, his voice tentative. “We’re thinking of having it be me.”

“Cynthia,” Miles said smoothly but Charlie could see the caution behind his face, “would carry the actual message itself. Connor would be the commander of the military forces escorting her. She’s a Texas citizen so she has the most chance of being able to persuade Carver but I need someone I trust to go with her. No matter how much these Patriots are falling into line, I still don’t trust anyone other than him and Jeremy and we can’t spare Jeremy yet.

“Besides,” Connor’s voice was quiet. “I was thinking that while I was there I could swing down to Mexico and talk to Nunez. He deserves to know that even though I didn’t leave of my own choice, I won’t be coming back. And he could be a useful ally if we’re really going to consolidate the U.S.”

Bass didn’t speak, just dropped onto the bed and rubbed his face with his hands. “I suppose,” he said roughly, “that since I went to all that trouble to make sure you were welcome back, I should expect that you’d want to.”

Charlie started to move closer to him but Connor beat her to it, touching his father on the shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

Bass snorted but she saw a slight curve to his lips. “I suppose those thirty men might not be all that interesting now.”

Connor’s grin flashed briefly. “To Colonel Bennett? I think not. But,” he hesitated leaning a little closer, “you should know that the rank isn’t what’s going to bring me back. Dad.”

The two of them gripped hands for a moment and then Bass stood up, sighing. “I suppose Aaron will be going with Cynthia,” and Charlie felt her own throat close for a moment as she fought down what she could only imagine was a similar flash of panic to Bass’.

“Yeah,” Miles said and Charlie saw him studying her face. “Poor guy. He treks from Atlanta, to Colorado, to Texas, to D.C. to Texas and then back to D.C. At least we can get him a train for a good part of it.”

“So they’ll be coming back,” Charlie said, her voice hopeful and Miles nodded at her.

“Of course. Cynthia’s already agreed to be the Secretary of Education. Aaron wouldn’t take a title but we can probably talk him into one eventually.”

“What time do you leave?” Bass asked.

“In about three hours,” Connor admitted. “That’s why we woke you.

“Jacob Green is putting together a group of volunteers to go with them. He’s promising us Soldiers who have some experience,” Miles said. “But who haven’t been part of the Patriots.”

“The was the former mayor’s son, wasn’t it?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” Bass replied. “Both his kids have volunteered to be in the American Militia. We’ll have to see what he and Adrianna know before we assign them ranks.”

Someone rapped on the door and it started to swing open since Miles had left it ajar. “Oh good,” Cynthia said, coming in the rest of the way. “You are awake. Sorry to get you up so early but I knew Aaron wouldn’t want to go without seeing Charlie.”

“No, good call,” Charlie said. “You sure you want to do this again so soon.”

Cynthia’s grin was mischievous. “Well, we’ll get a suite on the train car this time, and we’re going to have them take it as close to Texas as it can go, which means the trip might only take a week if it goes well. And if it doesn’t, I’m already used to riding. Besides, when I come back, I can bring my stuff with me. Not the furniture,” she amended quickly. “But my books, clothes and quilts.”

“And speaking of stuff,” Connor added. “I need to go pack. Not that I ever actually unpacked. But maybe see if someone can find me a few clean shirts since I won’t have time to do laundry here. I’ll see you downstairs.” He gripped Bass’ hand one last time and touched Charlie on the shoulder before he left and Cynthia followed, saying something about doing the same for her and Aaron.

Miles sighed as he closed the door behind them and moved over to sit on the bed next to Bass. “You going to be okay, Brother?”

Bass shook his head but his color was better and Charlie walked over to sit on his other side. She linked hands with Miles behind Bass and pressed their joined hands to his back.

“I will be. I just had this sudden vision of me and you training an Army here and Charlie going back to Texas.”

“Not happening,” Miles said, his voice harsh. “It’s the same reason why Rachel isn’t going either. I. . .I need her here. I wish I could have left Connor here too but he volunteered to go and he’s right, I don’t necessarily trust anyone else.”

“I suppose Bass Monroe sending his son to Texas will send a good message,” Bass admitted. “Even if I hate it.”

“I don’t really like it either,” Miles said. “But we don’t have a lot of options here.”

“I think,” Charlie whispered, “people coming and going will always be a part of our lives.” Connor leaving would certainly leave a hole, nearly as large as the one for Aaron and she thought back to the night she’d stopped him and Bass in Texas and how much she had disliked him.

Bass didn’t reply but Charlie felt Miles tighten his arm around Bass and the three of them sat together in the dying lantern light for a long time.

 

Eventually the growing darkness in the room and the tinges of gray at the window forced them to move and Miles left with Bass while Charlie hunted up clean socks and a pair of shoes. She made her way to the same room they’d eaten in last night and found the table set for breakfast. Connor and Cynthia were just finishing eating when the maid who had showed them to their room the night before appeared with a plate of toast and a glass of some sort of red juice. Charlie took a sip and smiled when she recognized the flavor of cranberry.

“Would you like an egg and some sausage as well, Mrs. Matheson,” the woman asked and Charlie shook her head.

“Maybe later. Ellie, wasn’t it?” The woman nodded, smiling a little. She couldn’t have been much older than Cynthia, Charlie guessed and she looked reasonably athletic. “But go ahead and make some for Miles and Bass.”

“General Monroe and General Matheson already said they’d wait to have breakfast until after the convoy leaves for Texas,” Ellie said and Charlie shrugged.

“Well then, I’ll wait for the rest of mine too.” She heard the door open and Jason walked in, his eyes flickering around the room when he saw her.

“Charlie.”

“Jason,” she responded and he smiled at her, looking more relaxed then she’d seen him in a long time.

“Hey,” Jason said, addressing Connor, “I found someone to get us clean clothes. I’m afraid to ask where they came from but the shirt sort-of fit. Mom’s going to lend you some of her stuff, Cynthia. She says a lot of it won’t be suitable for travel but that you should have a few nice dresses when you’re meeting with Carver. She’s getting rid of everything she had when she was pretending to be Rebecca Doyle and she asked you not bring any of the stuff back from Texas. She says she can’t stand to look at any of it and she wishes she could burn them but it seems a sin to waste good clothes when she can just send them to the other side of the country.”

“Tell her thank you,” Cynthia said. “And I promise she’ll never have to see any of them again. Is she coming down?”

“When we leave,” Jason affirmed and Charlie turned to look at him.

“Are you going too?” At his nod, she felt herself frown. “I would think you’d want to be around for a while since you just found your Mom yesterday.”

“I want,” he admitted, “to get out of here for a little bit. I’m a liability with this tattoo under my eye. Anyone could use me and I couldn’t stop them. The guys going to Texas won’t be Patriots. He sighed, “I could stand to put a bit of distance between myself and watching you and Monroe. And,” he added, his voice almost a little bitter, “me and my Dad. He and I have barely been out of each other’s hair for so long; first hunting your family, then fighting with Georgia and trying to find Mom.” She noticed he didn’t mention the Tower. “I think going to Texas will give me a chance to decide who I really am. That sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head, remembering her own trek to the Plains. “No. What did you parents say.”

“Dad tried to talk me out of it and Mom cried but I think they both understand. And,” he glanced around and leaned closer, “I think Monroe’s kid and I could do worse than hang out with each other. He actually seems like a pretty good guy. He’s coped with who his dad a lot better than I have. . .not sure if not being raised by Monroe had anything to do with that.”

She managed to keep a straight face. “Well, if you go down to Mexico with him, stay of the drugs his foster-father grows. No telling how it will interact with Patriot programming.” Connor could do a lot worse than have Jason at his back in Mexico.”

 

Intellectually, Charlie realized she’d been on this same train platform less than 72 hours before but emotionally it was hard to accept that so much had happened in so little time. They’d said their official goodbyes at the White House but no one had been willing to miss going to the train station. The whole platform was supposed to be blocked by their security detail – more of John Greene’s American Militia – but Tom kept breaking past the cordon to shake people’s hands, dragging Miles and Bass with him usually. Julia looked tired than she had the night before, clutching Jason’s arm but despite the tears in her eyes, Charlie only her the traditional cautions to be careful and never her asking him not to go.  
Rachel didn’t seem to care about the fact her face was tear-stained as she hugged Aaron and Cynthia for probably the hundredth time. Her mother, Charlie realized, depending on Aaron being there as much as she did. She stepped back for Charlie to get one last hug from them before Charlie walked over to where Bass and Connor were standing near the door to the train car.

“You take care of yourself,” she said, hearing the choking in her own voice and Connor embraced her.

“I will. Take care of the old man for me.”

“I will,” she promised. “But you’ve got to hurry back. If I’m going to deal with morning sickness you have to be around to be miserable with me.” He and Bass both stared at her in shock for a moment before she added, “No, I’m not pregnant.” Not that she knew of, at least. She wasn’t going to drink her tea any more but she’d drank it yesterday morning and it would probably take at least a few days to work out of her system. Connor looked disappointed and she kissed him on the cheek. “But maybe when you get back.”

She felt Bass’ fingers twine with hers as Connor went in to drop his bag on a seat and she followed him in, noting the open, padded benches. “Well, this is a step up.”

“Yes,” Cynthia agreed. “We have the first three cars for what Carissa calls our enterouge.”

“Where is Carissa,” Connor asked. “I’d have thought she’d be here?”

“She and Jeremy are going over applicants,” Miles said, coming in behind them. At Charlie’s look he grimaced. “In an office, fully dressed. I told him they should just give it up and sleep together but it sounds like they’re both of the opinion their relationship really is over. But they’re trying to make sure they have enough security details to cover all of us.”

“Which will be a pain that I get to miss,” Adrianna Greene announced, dropping a pack on one of the benches. “My brother was not amused when I won our coin toss to go to Texas and leave him here.”

Connor picked up his pack and looked like he was about to move it but then he glanced out the window where John Greene was talking with the Neville’s and he dropped it back in the same seat. He would probably enjoy Mexico a little too much, Charlie decided, but she was guessing he wouldn’t linger long.

She left Connor to have a final word with his father and nearly ran into Jason on his way in the door. They paused awkwardly but she reached out to give him a hug and he returned it. “Have a safe trip,” she said and was surprised at the smile she got from him. It made him look almost like the boy she’d first met.

“I will. You be safe here. This place is still dangerous.”

She snorted, waving her hand between her father and where Bass and Miles were behind her. “And they’re not?”

“Good point. But still, be careful.”

“I will.” They hugged again – a little less awkwardly – and she stepped out to see Julia, her face fighting not to crumple. The older woman surprised Charlie by reaching out and grabbing her hand, tightening it hard, then sighing and letting go.

“You’re doing the right thing. Letting him go,” Charlie said and Julia nodded.

“I know. That’s why we’re doing it. But it’s still hard.”

The train whistle startled her, even though the sound was too-familiar by now and Bass and Miles piled of the car along with a few people she didn’t know. They were taking nine people as security in addition to the formal envoys – Connor, Jason, Aaron, Cynthia and Adrianna – and she supposed more than a few people milling around were relatives of their security force. Rachel came over to grip her hand nearly as tightly as Julia had and Charlie gripped it back. Bass was on her other side with Miles next to him and they watched the train pick up speed.

“Cheer up,” Miles said, his voice forced-happy. “They’ll be back soon. Besides, if they can get this whole rail thing straightened up, Rachel, it will make it easier to go visit Gene.” Rachel actually looked happier and Tom sighed.

Bass pulled her against him, his arms gentle but she could tell much he needed her in that moment and she hugged him back.

“Well,” Tom said. “That’s Texas. Now we just have to sort out the Plains and California. Hopefully, Monroe, that boy of yours can help us with Mexico.”

She missed the rest of what he was saying as the train gave a final shriek – muted by distance but still loud – and then Bass was walking towards the carts they’d come in. “Way to go borrowing trouble, Tom,” her husband sighed. “California can’t –”

“California can be a pain in the ass,” Miles interrupted. “In case you don’t remember.”

“My memory is just fine, Miles. You were the one –”

“Colonel Matheson,” Tom growled and she raised her eyebrows at the sound of the title. She hadn’t been entirely sure that Miles hadn’t been joking. “Can you get the Generals to shut up?”

She could see Miles and Bass hiding smiles so she shrugged. “The rank isn’t official yet, Mayor Neville.”

“What do you want? A ceremony? You can forget about that because there is way too much to do to worry about all that.”

“Glad there’s some advantage to being busy,” Miles quipped and Tom glared at him but then the other man snorted.

“In any case, we’re sending Cynthia out there as the Secretary of Education and Connor and Jason as Colonel Bennett and Colonel Neville and we skipped the ceremony for them too – though we did get President Davis’ signatures on some papers to send with them to give to Texas so it’s semi-legal.”

“Semi-legal?” Rachel echoed and Tom nodded.

“Based on whether you accept him as the President of the United States.”

“And maybe we’d better not get into that,” Miles said, putting an arm around Rachel’s shoulders, probably to distract her from saying whatever horrible thing she was thinking, if her face was any indication of her thoughts.

“Good idea,” Bass said, his fingers still liked with Charlie’s.

“Shall we go home, then?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, turning to follow him. The White House wasn’t home – that was Bass and Miles, Rachel, Aaron and Connor – but until they could find their farm, it would be good enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had hoped for 50 chapters but this felt like the right place for the ending (there's still an epilogue to go). However, I'm not ruling out the fact that I might have to go back in and fill in a little more detail about Bass' early weeks in Willoughby or the first few weeks of their relationship. I rushed a lot there (and I have some seasonal issues to work out still). But here it is. . .the final main chapter of "A Good Resistance." Thank you all for sticking with it.


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you seeing a new posting and going right to the last chapter. . .I actually added Chapters 46-49 tonight. So while you can, of course, start here, you'll miss quite a bit if you don't go back and read Chapter 46 first.

Epilogue -- February 2037

“What, again?” Miles asked, brow creasing. ”What are you two? Guppies.”

Bass winced but Charlie grinned. ”This is the last one.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Miles commented but he jerked as Rachel slapped him lightly in the back of the head.

“For someone who doesn’t want details,” her mother’s voice was dry, “you certainly ask a lot of questions.” Rachel gestured for a porter to take the small mountain of luggage piled by the door. Charlie sometimes wondered that she had once lived out of a single backpack for months when a week-long visit now required nearly half the wagon bed.

“I just wonder if they’re starting a commune out there. Or maybe their own army.”

“Not hardly,” Bass commented and Charlie glanced around the restaurant, making sure none of their three children were getting behind the bar. The whole room was bathed in February sunlight from the floor-to-ceiling windows on the south side, a door leading out to a walled courtyard where more tables were set. It was empty this early. Their oldest, eight year old Justin, was already in a booth, sketching on a sheet of paper. There were three sticks of charcoal and a box of pastel crayons that he certainly hadn’t brought with him and Miles shrugged when he saw where she was looking. He was still a sucker, Charlie realized, and she loved him for it.

The girls, five-year old Sylvia and three year-old Anastasia were over near the fireplace, petting Max, the gray cat that had come with the hotel. Miles had growled about him since he’d bought it but Charlie was pretty sure the sleek coat didn’t just come from catching mice – the excuse he gave for tolerating the beast.

“How’s names going?” Miles asked and Bass shrugged. 

“Badly, as usual. I thought of Samuel this morning.”

“Nope, knew a rebel kid who died named Sam,” Charlie said. They’d been planning on naming the first boy William Benjamin, after both her and Monroe’s father’s. But the first time they’d held him they had both decided they didn’t want their son to make them think of their dead, even if they were never far away. So they’d made a pact, not to name any child they had after anyone they knew, living or dead, which had actually made it difficult to pick names. Justin Raphael, Sylvia Cassandra and Anastasia Nicole had taken some creative thinking. ”Eric?”

Miles and Bass both winced. ”Guy in our unit,” Miles explained. ”Committed suicide six months after we got back from Iraq because his girlfriend left him.”

“It may be a girl,” Rachel pointed out. ”I think Bethany is pretty.” Miles and Bass both winced again and Rachel signed. ”Never mind. Not Bethany.”

“Now you see why we’re quitting at four,” Bass quipped. ”Coming up with this many generic names has been hard enough. We’ve been debating for a month now and still nothing. We’ll manage something – we always do – but I don’t even want to imagine what we’d do again.

“So what makes you so sure this will be your last?” Rachel asked.

“There’s a doctor in Arlington performing vasectomies,” Bass said. ”I’ve talked to some of his past patients and he seems to know what he’s doing. Did them before the Blackout too, just with a little bit more sophisticated equipment. Though from what I understand, not much has changed about the surgery one way or the other. “

“It does have the advantage,” Charlie admitted, “that I won’t be able to change my mind in a few years.” She suspected Bass would be grateful. He’d nearly driven her crazy, the entire time she’d been pregnant with Justin, barely even letting her pick up anything heavier than a book and following her nearly everywhere.

It hadn’t been until Gene had arrived with the Texas delegation when she’d been seven months along that he had been willing to listen to anyone’s advice and she suspected it was only the combination of doctor and her grandfather that had done the trick; as if he had been afraid any other doctor might not care about her. He had been better with the girls but the nightmares would still start about the sixth or seventh month and she’d wake to him crying out in his sleep.

“See,” Bass quipped. “No commune.”

“All right,” Charlie called. ”Everybody upstairs. Baths all around before we go. Justin, finish with the charcoal. I’m not having you touch it after you get cleaned up.” He stared at her and she signed. ”You know Aunt Julia has that set of colored pencils she lets you use and you can’t get those on your clothes.” Or his sisters clothes. Her son flashed his father’s grin, gathering the drawing supplies. 

”So when are you due?” Rachel asked.

“Probably August.” She hated being pregnant in the summer, but she hadn’t exactly planned this one, which was part of the reason Bass was pushing for letting him get a vasectomy. ”Sylvia, leave Max alone. He’s not taking a bath with you.” Rachel went over to pick up Anastasia, fussing over both girls and the dolls they had with them. Charlie wasn’t quite sure if she was worried or proud that Sylvia had demanded a wooden crossbow for her doll and refused to let “Vicki” go anywhere without it.

“Oh,’ Rachel said, touching her arm. ”I got another letter from your grandfather last week. Do you want me to go grab it?”

“I’ll have you save it for after dinner. Something to look forward to.”

“There will be rider going to Austin in three days so you can include a reply. I still feel a little bad about using the government courier for my personal mail but Jeremy says I might as well. I suppose it works in my favor that Governor Carver is high maintenance.”

“Well,” Charlie shrugged, “his volunteering to change his title from President to Governor did do a lot for consolidating everything under Tom. He really hated to have the same rank as Governor Afleck.” The Plains Nations hadn’t had a single leader to placate so they, the Georgia Federation, and the Monroe Republic had spent the next few years re-aligning their territories to restore the pre-blackout borders of the original States. Tom had signed agreements with both Texas and California that their borders would remain unchanged as long as Carver and Affleck were in office – they were also both exempt from term limits. However, Affleck had allowed both Washington and Idaho to form into their own states during the last few years and would possibly give Oregon independence within the next year.

“I still think Bass should have let Tom give him the Governor title,” Rachel commented as they climbed the stairs behind the children and Charlie laughed.

“He couldn’t get away from politics fast enough once Tom got formally elected. We’re lucky he still lets people call him General and puts on the uniform when Julia wants to parade him around.” She’d argued with him about it plenty, hoping it would help restore his confidence in his ability as a leader but she’d eventually realized he had found that in his work with Miles and re-establishing an American military.

 

Julia, per custom when a state dinner was involved, had sent over dresses for them. Rachel’s was a charcoal gray lace with a matching jacket in velvet and Charlie’s was a dark turquoise silk that nearly matched the Monroe Militia uniform Bass was fidgeting into. He was into his fifties but she was pretty sure the gray in his hair was more from the children than from growing up. She sometimes wondered how he managed to barely age. ”Can you do my cuffs?” he asked as she toweled her hair. ”I don’t see why she always insists I wear this damn relic when we visit. What stupid moron decided to stick this M insignia where it jabs me right in the throat.” She prudently decided not to mention that stupid moron had probably been him.

“It’s just for the dinner tonight. Julia’s promised you can wear whatever you want – within reason – after this. And it’s only for three days anyway. “ They’d stay a few days after the French-Italy, German and English Ambassadors went on their tour of the rest of the United States. 

Leaving the farm for a week – even if it wasn’t quite an hour’s wagon ride --had once been unthinkable with the livestock. However, six years before, Julia had sent them four retired Soldiers, three of them former-Militia. Julia had taken their pay out of her own budget so that she could demand their presence in D.C. whenever she needed to show off General Monroe. Bass hated being used as a political tool but even he acknowledged the results and it was a good excuse to visit with Miles and Rachel. ”Besides, elections are this fall and since Jeremy is going to run, you’d better get used to putting it on for Julia’s functions.” 

She wasn’t sure if it was the same allure that had people keeping wild animals as pets that made them want to sit across from him at dinner. But whatever the reason, either General Matheson or General Monroe could draw a crowd. Together, Julia had often commented, they had practically bankrolled Tom’s re-election campaign doing her fundraisers. 

One cattle baron from California had paid five pounds of diamonds to get them to stage an exhibition; the two of them and a set of wooden swords against his ten hand-picked competitors. They had been good fighters. But they hadn’t worked together as a team and the strengths that the Cattle Baron had chosen them for hadn’t worked to their advantage when fighting as a mob. It had been over in less than fifteen minutes, bruises all around and a few dislocated bones but the man had been delighted with the show. They’d invited him and his fighters back to the bar afterwards and Miles and Bass had spent the rest of the night being Miles and Bass; that magnetic charm between them that Charlie sometimes thought could manipulate anyone if they were trying hard enough. 

“Well we’re not doing any more fights. I think I bruised a rib last time. I’m getting too old for this,” he griped and she hid a smile. He always said he was getting too old but she’d caught him teaching Sylvia and Justin both how to spar the week before. Unshaved, shirt torn, he’d still looked remarkably like the man she’d found in the ring at New Vegas over a decade ago. Her husband was a gladiator at heart, even if he liked to pretend he wasn’t.

“That’s fine.” There was no point in arguing because Julia could manipulate him easily enough on her own.

They rendezvoused downstairs, doing a last check to see that the kids had everything they needed and even looked presentable before they loaded into the carriage Julia had sent to them. She’d offered guest rooms at the White House, but while Charlie had come to appreciate and respect Tom over the years, neither of them was ever quite able to fully relax around the other.

 

The first person they saw as they walked into the White House was Conner, waiting for them in the hallway and he grinned that same Bass-smile that he and Justin both shared with their father. Connor looked more like Emma than Bass; just as she thought Justin looked more like her. It was Sylvia and Anastasia she thought looked most like Monroe. But that grin was unmistakable. 

Charlie hung back to let him greet Bass and the kids first, mostly because she didn’t want to get stampeded by her daughters. All three of the children worshiped their older brother, and through the general din, she caught the girls complaining how mean Justin had been and couldn’t Conner ask him to be nice; Justin protesting they never left him alone didn’t that sound terrible to Conner. But all three united on trying to talk their sibling into coming to visit them soon.

He finally waded back through them to give her a hug and she accepted his kiss on her cheek and the teasing, “Mom.” He usually just called her Charlie, but they both enjoyed the occasional joke of the fact he was older than she was.

“How have you been?” she asked and the children quieted. They were high spirited but they also had manners. 

“Good. Busy. Jeremy’s finally talked Julia into letting me be on his campaign so I officially work for him now. But she’s doing all the same things for his campaign that she did with Tom’s so nothing’s really different. Hey Uncle Miles, Aunt Rachel.” He called them by their names as well, but he was probably playing to the crowd waiting to greet them. He saw them a lot more often than he did Charlie since he usually went to Miles’ bar a few times a week.

The crowd parted around Julia and she still was the same stunning Julia – her hair a little more gray –but manipulating a nation seemed to agree with her. She greeted the adults warmly, which may have been an act, but her greeting for the children was a mischievous smile and an, “Okay, who wants cookies?” When she got the expected response she gestured over an aide. ”Go with Brandon and he’ll take you to have dinner and play with Maya and Tim while we go do boring stuff. Louisa, Isabelle and Davy are already up there. And yes, Justin, my colored pencils are in the playroom. Now you three, get out of here or I’ll make you sit through the adult dinner.” 

It wasn’t an idle threat. Justin had once asked to stay with his parents and Julia had ordered an extra place set. He’d actually lasted about fifteen minutes into the speeches before he’d caved and asked to be excused. She straightened, brushing the fall of her magenta-silk skirt back into place as the children left, more or less in a rush. ”Thank you again for coming,” she said quietly under the general din of the exodus and that time Charlie was pretty sure it was sincere.

Julia led them into the reception hall and Charlie winced when she realized there were probably close to a hundred people. But she spotted Jason and his wife, Adrianna, talking with Carissa and her husband. Jason broke off to come over and hug her, his wife right behind him. Adrianna had a talent for putting everyone at ease so she and Julia double-teamed most political functions effectively. It couldn’t have been easy being the Neville’s daughter-in-law but Adrianna always made it look painless. Carissa’s husband, Jacob, was Adrianna’s older brother.

Miles and Bass had already made a beeline for Jeremy, though Bass still had his hand on his oldest son’s arm. Tom walked up and they moved to let him into the group. Being President had agreed with him about as much as it had Julia and his blazing tension had mellowed somewhat over the years, even if hadn’t faded altogether. He was still a little strained around Bass and Miles, which was why Charlie had noticed he usually greeted them immediately, then moved on soon afterwards. She knew from experience he’d stop in to talk to them multiple times during the night but the interactions would usually not last more than a few minutes.

She turned around to see Aaron and Cynthia already deep in conversation with Rachel. Tom kept Aaron employed under the title of “Secretary of Electrical Restoration.” It wasn’t exactly a cabinet position but it still commanded a great deal of influence, even if not one really knew if they’d ever actually restore power. Cynthia had resigned as Secretary of Education after about two years since she decided she missed teaching and disliked meetings. She ended up tutored Jason and Adrianna’s children as well as Carissa’s daughters and Cynthia and Aaron’s two year old son was usually there with them too.

She felt a hand in the middle of her back and she turned to see Bass looking at her, a little worried. ”You doing okay?”

“I’m good.”

“You sure? You’re looking a little lost, just standing here in the middle of the room.”

She smiled, stepping in to rest her head against his shoulder. She had noticed not many couple’s were so openly affectionate at State dinners; the occasional handclasp or kiss on the cheek. But Julia had told her years ago that Bass’ and Miles’ partners were given a little more leeway. It wasn’t the whole story, but if Julia wanted people to think General Monroe and General Matheson were controlled by their wives, she wasn’t going to argue with the results. The fact that she and Rachel were mother and daughter had led to speculation about Matheson women but it also reduced the chances of anyone attempting to use them as figureheads for any kind of political machinations.

His arms came around her. ”Do you need to go sit down?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned up to whisper into his ear. ”Just appreciating the view. Look at it.”

He was staring around the room itself at first, clearly trying to decide what she meant, but his eyes flicked over to Conner, then Aaron, and finally settled on Miles, who grimaced at them. Bass exhaled a “Huh,” then bent down for a kiss. ”That’s quite a family, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is. I've talked about this epilogue for a very long time (and a few of you who emailed me even got to read it early). I wrote this a very long time ago, even before they picked Connor up in Mexico (hence why he and Charlie had to get to where they got along so well. . .it was in the epilogue).
> 
> When I started this journey I had no idea it was going to run so long and I owe it to all the people who encouraged me and kept reading and commenting. Many times I would have stopped writing this if I hadn't gotten people asking for more. Thank you all so much for pushing me to keep writing, even when I was discouraged. I'm only hoping the wait was worth it.
> 
> It's not quite over yet. A Good Resistance is done, yes (I think. . .remember, I just added a whole new Chapter 2 a few months ago and might go add more to earlier parts that need expounded) but I have the prolog written and am working on the first chapter of "Restoration" which is a look at what happens when power starts to come on again after being off nearly 30 years. I can't say for sure how long it will be. . .but then again, I thought "Resistance" would be only a dozen or so chapters and was shocked when I broke 50,000 words.
> 
> But while the journey hasn't ended, we have come to a pause and again, thank you all so much for sticking with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are ALWAYS welcome. And I love critiques, especially since this is work-in-progress. So if you see something glaring (granted, there will be some spelling/grammar errors because I'm typing most of it directly into the website and usually not spending as much time proofing as I should before posting it. I am trying to go back to correct mistakes as I find them so don't worry too much about that. . .unless you noticed I've everything else and missed one), please comment on it and I will consider making a revision if I think you are right, up to and including fairly major re-writes if it needs it.
> 
> If anyone has any questions/observations/suggestions but don't want it to appear in comments (for instance, if you notice I have a major plot contradiction, etc, but don't want to dime me out in public) you are welcome to email me at sallyportao3@gmail.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What happens in Mexico might stay in Mexico but Texas isn’t Mexico](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3688296) by [Sally_Port](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sally_Port/pseuds/Sally_Port)




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